


Walking Through Fire

by the__magpie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, Explicit Language, Kidnapped Castiel, M/M, Minor Violence, Prince Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5171057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the__magpie/pseuds/the__magpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel’s life as a prince isn’t perfect, but it’s certainly preferable to being kidnapped by robbers. All he wants is to go back home safely and forget about all of this, but his brother is refusing to pay the ransom and the leader of the robbers, Dean Winchester, is annoyingly good at making Castiel trust him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to finally be sharing this fic with everyone! A lot of work, not all of it mine, has been put into making this what it is.
> 
> Thank you to my amazing and talented artist, [wayoffcanon](http://wayoffcanon.tumblr.com/), whose art is unbelievably gorgeous. Go follow her on tumblr, my friends!
> 
> A HUGE thank you to my beta, [munchin-munchkin](http://munchin-munchkin.tumblr.com/), who is like an actual saint for real. I cannot thank you enough!
> 
> And thank you to everyone else who encouraged me or gave me advice along the way! I honestly couldn't have done it without you. This is for all of you!
> 
> All that said, I hope you enjoy the fic!
> 
>  
> 
> [[art masterpost]](http://wayoffcanon.tumblr.com/post/132880289118/dcbb2015-art-masterpostwalking-through-fire)
> 
> [[livejournal post]](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/249659.html)

 

When Castiel woke up all he saw was darkness.

This didn’t strike him as odd as it was nighttime and he was in his room with the curtains drawn. What was strange was that he had woken up at all. Normally, he slept soundly from the moment he laid his head down on the pillow to the time that a servant entered to open the curtains and help him dress. Nights in the castle were usually silent, so something must have woken him. He lay still listening, and after a moment he heard a noise.

Voices, speaking barely above the volume of an exhale, and soft footsteps. No one was supposed to be in his room at this time. Perhaps a servant had gotten lost and opened the wrong door. Perhaps his sister was attempting to play a prank on him. Feigning sleep, Castiel kept his eyes cracked open, watching for any sign of movement.

The sound of a match striking found his ears, and there was a brief flare of light, but it was too far in Castiel’s periphery for him to see who it was. A candle was lit and began to move slowly towards Castiel’s bed. A voice murmured something again, and another responded. Someone leaned over Castiel’s bed and through his cracked lids Castiel could see gold-green eyes nearly glowing in the candlelight.

“If you’re going to pretend to be asleep, don’t hold your breath,” a voice said.

Castiel started to sit up straight, but hands grabbed him and forced him back onto his pillow. A cup was brought to his lips and before he could shut them, a thick, syrupy liquid was poured down his throat. He tried to scream but he only choked on the liquid. A large, calloused hand covered his mouth so that he couldn’t make any more noise.

“Quiet now, Your Highness,” the voice said. “Sam, hand me the bag.”

Roughly, a burlap sack was forced over Castiel’s head, blocking out what little he could see in the flickering light of the candle. He tried to struggle against the hands holding him down, but his limbs kept getting slower and slower. Drowsiness set in. It suddenly seemed much easier to just lay back and let sleep take him. His eyes drifted closed and he slumped back in his bed.

 

* * *

 

It was the headache that woke him up, along with the rough jostling. He couldn’t see anything except the dim suggestion of sunlight through the sack over his face, but he could tell that he was lying on something lumpy – it felt like a sack of potatoes. He guessed that he was in some sort of cart because it was moving at a slow pace, making the potatoes shift around and poke uncomfortably into his back. When he tried to move, he discovered that he was tied securely at the ankles and wrists.

Castiel wasn’t one to panic in stressful situations, but he could feel a prickle of dread crawling across his skin. It didn’t help that the sack over his face seemed to grow heavier and hotter with every breath that he took until it was almost pressing down on his mouth, trying to suffocate him. Swallowing hard, Castiel turned his head to the side, desperate for a breath of cool air.

“I think he’s awake,” a voice said, not far to Castiel’s right.

“Did he say something?” a new voice asked.

“He moved his head.”

“We still have a while to go. We can’t have him awake.”

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a sound out he was hit over the head and the dim sunlight went black.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t in the cart any longer when he woke up, but lying on his side with his cheek pressed into damp earth. His neck was bent at an incredibly uncomfortable angle. Immediately, he pushed himself into a sitting position, spitting pine needles out of his mouth and slowly trying to stretch the crick out of his neck. His limbs were still tied together, limiting his movement. He could see the glow of a fire nearby, but his head was still aching and it hurt to look at it. He glanced toward the fire again, then looked away quickly, groaning.

“Glad you could join us,” a voice said – one of the voices that Castiel had heard when he was in the cart. Squinting, he looked past the small encirclement of flames, where a single figure sat. It was difficult to see the man’s face, but he looked young, probably close to his mid-twenties like Castiel.

“Who are you?” Castiel asked. He meant it to sound authoritative, but his throat was dry and his voice cracked over the last word.

“Dean Winchester,” the man said. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Castiel.”

“Your Highness,” Castiel corrected stiffly, immediately disliking this man.

Dean laughed. “Why, thank you, I like that. I’d shake your hand too, but, well…”

Castiel gritted his teeth. “Why am I here?”

Even past the glow of flames, Castiel could see Dean’s sardonic smile. “Well isn’t it obvious?”

“You’ve kidnapped me; that much is clear. Presumably for ransom, though I don’t know what you’re expecting to get from that.”

Dean’s smile didn’t falter. “What do you mean by that? You’re the prince.”

“Isn’t it usually the princess that thieves kidnap? If you really wanted to gain from this, you should have taken my sister Anna, or one of my older brothers. They care little for me. They won’t give you the gold you want.”

Dean stood and walked to the other side of the fire, squatting a few feet in front of Castiel. His face was shadowed with the light of the fire at his back, but now Castiel could make out his strong jaw, his straight nose, and the glint of green in his eyes.

“Your brothers will pay, and if they don’t, your father will.”

“My father is gone.”

“I know that’s what you royals want us to think.” Dean cocked his head, looking mildly amused. “Maybe your disappearance will chase him out of hiding.”

“Not even war has brought him back. I hardly think that his youngest son’s kidnapping will do it.”

“We’ll see,” Dean said, straightening up. He turned his back on Castiel and began stirring the fire with a stick.

Castiel tasted the remnants of the liquid that Dean had used to put him to sleep making his mouth feel cottony. “What did you feed me?” he demanded. A horrible thought struck him. “It was a potion, wasn’t it? You’re using witchcraft!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it was a simple drug. You know that witchcraft is illegal. And we wouldn’t _dare_ do anything illegal.” There was definitely an ironic edge to Dean’s voice.

“Where am I?” Castiel tried again.

Dean barked a laugh. “As if I’d tell you! No, that’s one little secret you won’t be getting from us.”

“Us? Who’s us?”

“My men and I.” Dean turned back to Castiel with a grin. “My band. We’ve got a bit of a reputation around these parts. Maybe you’ve heard about us.”

“I can’t say that I have. Nobody pays much mind to lowlife thieves and robbers.”

“They do when those robbers have stolen a prince,” Dean said.

“They will only know you as a warning for disobeying royalty,” Castiel said. “For when you release me, I will come back to find you, and I will have every member of your band executed.”

Dean suddenly dropped down in front of Castiel, leaning in close to him. Castiel caught his breath at the sudden proximity. It was so dark that all he could see was the outline of Dean’s face and the glint of his eyes. Dean grinned at his reaction, reaching up and gently brushing Castiel’s hair away from his forehead. “That’s a nasty bruise you’ve got there, Your Highness,” he murmured, leaning closer so that Castiel could feel his breath against his ear. “Be careful that you don’t make it worse.”

He pressed his thumb against the bruise and Castiel winced. As Dean moved away, Castiel spat, “I am a prince. You should show me some respect.” Instead of replying, Dean just winked at him and walked away, disappearing into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

With Dean gone, Castiel set to work trying to free himself of the bindings around his wrists and ankles. It seemed that the more he struggled, the more the ropes cut into his skin. Whoever had tied him up was obviously very good at it. Of course, he thought, he could always try to crawl to freedom on his knees and elbows, but the image that summoned was so undignified that he shuddered simply at the idea of it.

Giving up on that idea, he tried to figure out where he was. Unfortunately, the only hint of his location was the trees all around him. He must be in a forest somewhere. He racked his brain to remember the maps that he had had to study when he was younger, recalling that there were lots of forests near the edges of the kingdom. That didn’t help him much. Looking up, he tried to discern his location by looking at the stars, but the thick branches overhead obscured them. Besides, Castiel had all but forgotten the star maps he had memorized as a child.

The dying fire marked the passing of time as the orange flames turned to glowing embers. Castiel had pulled himself a few feet to his right so that he sat against a tree trunk, huddling within himself against the growing cold. He wasn’t tired; every nerve in his body was on full alert, making it impossible to even think of sleep. He half expected some new threat to come leaping over the dying fire to hurt him again. Besides, this tree trunk was impossible to get comfortable against compared to his feather mattress back in the castle.

Ransom, indeed! Castiel scowled to himself, breathing into his bound hands to warm them up. He didn’t know what this Dean Winchester’s goal really was, but if he actually expected to get money out of Michael to ensure Castiel’s safety, he was stupider than he looked.

The rest of the night passed slowly, as Castiel stared at the dying embers of the fire and flinched every time an owl hooted in the trees. He didn’t fall asleep until the fire was nothing more than cold ashes and the stars had begun to disappear from the sky.

 

* * *

 

Everything hurt when he woke up.

He didn’t think it was possible for his head to ache worse than it had the night before, but it did. His neck hurt from the uncomfortable angle it was at, his back hurt from leaning against the hard tree trunk, and his wrists hurt from chaffing against the rope. It didn’t help that he was completely covered in pine needles and they poked into him with even the slightest movement, making his skin itch fiercely. Without opening his eyes, he groaned loudly.

“Sounds like our prince is awake!” a familiar voice reached his ears. Castiel’s eyes flew open, but he didn’t see Dean anywhere. All he could see in every direction was trees. The morning sunlight had done nothing to illuminate his situation.

For a moment, he was confused as to where Dean’s voice was coming from. Then a new voice answered Dean. “Doesn’t sound like he’s too happy.”

They were approaching through the trees but not visible yet. Dean’s voice sounded revoltingly cheerful. “I wouldn’t be either if I spent the night tied up on the forest floor.”

“Are you sure you know where you left him?”

“Uh…” The sound of footsteps crashing through underbrush stopped. “This way, somewhere.” The footsteps resumed and Castiel could tell that they were getting closer. “Hello? Prince Castiel?”

Castiel kept his lips determinedly shut, part of him hoping that they wouldn’t find him, but a moment later Dean came into view. Alongside him was another man with long brown hair that was pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. Dean appeared to be fairly tall, but this man was even taller. Both of them wore leathers that looked like they had been patched up more than once, and both carried swords at their sides. Castiel felt a stab of annoyance. Only knights were supposed to carry swords, and these lowlife bandits were certainly not knights.

“Aha!” Dean exclaimed, spotting Castiel. “I was beginning to worry you’d run off on us.”

Castiel glared at Dean’s wide grin.

“Good morning to you too,” Dean went on, unbothered by Castiel’s hostility. “Well Sam, here he is, live and in the flesh.”

“Um, good morning, Your Highness.” The taller man ducked his head, looking nervous. “Er, Castiel.” He cleared his throat. “Your Highness.”

“Really, Sam?” Dean sounded amused. “He’s tied up and covered in pine needles and you still have to call him ‘Your Highness’?”

“He’s still the prince, Dean,” Sam muttered.

“He’s our prisoner.”

“He’s also sitting right here,” Castiel snapped, fed up at last. “Well? What do you want from me now?”

Sam started at the sound of his voice, looking properly chastened, but Dean just smiled wider. “So he hasn’t lost his tongue! Good, we’ll need it to negotiate properly with your brother.”

“I’ve told you already,” Castiel said, annoyed. “My brother won’t give money to a band of outlaws that nobody has ever heard of, especially not for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, so you’ve said. I’m sure we’ll find some way to convince him, though. Sam, untie his legs, will you?”

Avoiding Castiel’s eyes, Sam knelt down and untied the rope around his ankles. Dean bent and grabbed Castiel’s upper arm, hauling him to his feet. Stiff from the night sitting in the cold, Castiel’s joints screeched. He bit back the groan that nearly escaped his mouth, determined not to give Dean the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort.

“Where are my manners?” Dean said. “Welcome to our home, Your Highness. Isn’t it beautiful?” He gestured around them at the trees that went on in every direction, keeping one hand firmly on Castiel’s arm.

“I can’t say I find it very appealing,” Castiel said.

“See Sam, he just doesn’t understand the finer things in life.”

“If that was supposed to be a joke it wasn’t funny at all.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m surrounded by people with no sense of humor!”

“Maybe it’s just that you’re not funny.”

“You’re not my brother anymore.” Dean turned to Castiel. “Anyways, back to the reason we came here. Are you hungry?”

 “Yes,” Castiel said, realizing suddenly what that horrible ache in his stomach was. He had never been truly hungry before now. It felt like something inside him was sucking all the strength out of his body through his stomach. “Yes!” he said again more forcefully. “I demand a proper meal at once!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well I _was_ just going to offer it to you, but now that you’ve demanded it I don’t want to.”

“Dean,” Sam said warningly.

“Alright, alright.” Dean grabbed Castiel’s upper arm and began walking, seeming to care little about Castiel’s stiff limbs. Sam followed behind them.

“Where are we going?” Castiel asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. The only interaction he had had with commoners prior to this was watching their marketplace from his bedroom window in the castle. He had no idea what to expect from these people. The commoners in the marketplace had looked dirty and unsophisticated, and those had just been simple farmers and merchants. These were bandits. Would they surround him and try to tear him limb from limb to be devoured raw? He was sure he had read about something like that in one of his books growing up.

Neither Dean nor Sam answered his question and they continued through the trees. Castiel had no idea how either of them knew where they were going; it all looked the same to him.

It was a few minutes later when they made a slight turn and a young woman with bright red hair came into view. She was leaning against a tree trunk, looking like she was dozing off slightly, but she straightened up and grinned widely when she spotted Sam and Dean. When her eyes fell on Castiel, her mouth dropped into a perfect ‘o’.

“No way!” she exclaimed, jumping forward until she was right in front of them. Castiel stopped walking, startled by her excitement. “Jo said you got him, but I didn’t think… A real live prince! Right in front of me!”

“Calm down, Charlie, he’s just a person,” Dean said, but there was a note of amusement in his voice.

“Speak for yourself, Winchester, he’s royalty!” the girl laughed, leaning in closer as if to inspect Castiel. He leaned away, unnerved, and her eyes widened. “Oh! How rude of me.” She curtseyed awkwardly, lifting up the ends of her tunic because she didn’t wear a skirt. “Charlie Bradbury, Your Highness.”

“Not you too,” Dean groaned. “Look, Charlie, you don’t have to curtsey. And what were you doing sleeping on the job? Aren’t you supposed to be on watch?”

“I was!” she said. “But it was really boring.”

“What if we had been some of the king’s men out looking for him?” There was no real heat in his words, and Charlie just shrugged them off without losing her smile.

“But you weren’t. Come on, everyone’s gonna want to see him! I’ll make Garth take over here.”

They moved forward through the trees, but it was only a few steps before they gave out into a large round clearing. A fire was built in the center of it, with roughly a dozen men and women standing or sitting around it. All of them stopped what they were doing to stare at Castiel. They certainly weren’t the image of a savage robber band that Castiel had expected. In fact, they didn’t look that different from many of the people that worked in the castle, except for their clothes; they all wore leathers and tunics as beaten up and patched together as Sam and Dean’s. Most had plates in their hand and seemed to be eating breakfast. A few carried swords at their sides, a few others with various other weapons such as daggers or bows. Some were staring at Castiel with wide open mouths as if they, like Charlie, couldn’t believe that they had succeeded in kidnapping a prince.

“Okay, everyone, freak show’s over,” Dean said loudly, and the group seemed to snap out of a trance. Many looked away quickly as if ashamed of staring.

“Where are we?” Castiel asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Dean chuckled, dragging Castiel forward and sitting him down beside the crackling campfire. A small group of robbers who had been sitting nearby scooted away quickly.

The smell of cooking eggs reached Castiel’s nose then, and his mouth watered immediately. Right on cue, his stomach let out a fantastic noise that he had no idea it was capable of making. Dean laughed out loud. Castiel turned his head to glare at him; it was Dean’s fault that he was this hungry to begin with. What kind of person found amusement in somebody else’s discomfort?

“Food, alright, I get it,” Dean said, holding his hands up against the rebuke that Castiel had been about to spit at him. Dean untied the ropes from around Castiel’s wrists and then turned toward the fire, drawing a pan of scrambled eggs from the coals. He piled some on a roughly carved wooden plate and handed it to Castiel along with a slice of dry toast and a fork with two of the tines broken off.

The eggs were too runny and the toast was slightly burnt, but somehow they tasted better than anything Castiel had been given to eat by the expert chefs in the castle’s kitchens. He devoured the entire thing in what felt like seconds, then looked from his empty plate back to Dean, who was watching him in amusement.

“No, that’s all you get,” Dean said in answer to Castiel’s unasked question. “There are other people here we need to feed.” He pulled Castiel back up to his feet and tied his wrists back together. “Now, you’re coming with me.”

“Dean,” a gruff voice called from across the clearing. An older man with a scruffy beard stepped into the clearing, hurrying toward the two of them. Barely sparing a glance for Castiel, he stopped by Dean, whispering something in his ear. Castiel saw Dean’s jaw tighten.

“Now?” Dean murmured. “Can’t it wait, Bobby?”

“No, it can’t,” the other man said firmly.

“Fine.” Dean glanced back at Castiel. “You stay here, and don’t move away from this spot until I come back.” He followed the older man back into the trees.

Castiel stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do. Back home, he _always_ knew where he was supposed to be and how he was supposed to act. He didn’t even have to think about it since everything was already decided for him by other people. Here, he knew nothing. Should he stand or sit? Should he look around at the robbers that cast not-so-surreptitious glances in his direction, or keep his eyes to himself? Should he talk to anyone?

He finally sat back down on the pine needles, looking around at the robbers. While many averted their eyes as soon as he looked at them, there were a few who held his gaze, almost belligerently. In particular, five or so robbers that seemed to have formed their own little group separately from the rest. Castiel didn’t like the way they looked at him. The oldest man there, the one who the others seemed to keep looking back to, was most likely their leader. He was bald and wore a thin, unfriendly smile that put Castiel on edge.

As soon as Castiel noticed that they were watching him, the older man stood up and made his way toward the fire. He crouched in front of it, not looking at Castiel for a few moments, stirring at the coals with a stick.

“So you’re the royal, huh?” the man said at last.

“Yes,” Castiel said, trying to put all of his remaining dignity into that single word.

“Samuel Campbell,” the man said. “Pleasure to meet you.” His smile was distinctly unpleasant.

Castiel didn’t say anything, which seemed to amuse Samuel Campbell for some reason. His smile widened and he turned toward Castiel fully.

“I know exactly who you are, of course. Prince Castiel, the king’s youngest son. A royal.” The last word was practically spat out, as if it were a dirty word.

“What do you want?” Castiel asked with his fists clenched in his lap.

“Nothing at all.” Samuel crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I thought you should know, though, that some people around here aren’t too fond of royals like yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Plenty of folks around here that have suffered thanks to your family. Plenty that wouldn’t mind making you pay for what they’ve lost.”

Castiel’s held Samuel’s gaze, determined not to blink first.

“All I’m saying,” Samuel went on, his smile becoming more of a leer now, “is that you should watch your back, Your Highness. Some of us weren’t too happy about the idea of hosting a prince in our little camp, and we wouldn’t be too heartbroken about seeing you go.”

“Watch your tone,” Castiel said coolly.

Samuel leaned closer, lowering his voice slightly. “You’ve forgotten where you are, little princeling. You’re in our territory now, and you have no power over us. Remember that.”

“Samuel!”

Dean’s sharp voice made Castiel jump. Samuel leaned back and glanced over his shoulder to where Dean stood, scowling at him.

“Just having a little chat with the prince, no harm in that,” Samuel said lightly. He returned to his group on the edge of the clearing, and they resumed their glaring at Castiel from afar.

“You’re coming with me,” Dean muttered, grabbing Castiel’s elbow and hauling him to his feet.

“What was that all about?” Castiel demanded, hurrying to keep pace with Dean’s long strides. They were headed out of the clearing in a completely different direction from where they had come in.

“That was my grandfather,” Dean said, a note of resentment in his voice. “He doesn’t like royal people and he doesn’t hide it. Watch out for him and his gang.”

“Your…. What? Why would anyone dislike royals?”

Dean stopped walking, looking at Castiel with an odd, humorless smile. “You’re joking, right?”

“What? Why would I be joking?”

Huffing an impatient breath, Dean continued on his way. “Well, I could list the reasons that royals aren’t well liked, but I haven’t got all day. Come on, we’re here.”

They didn’t seem to be anywhere in particular. A couple of massive boulders were piled up among the trees, but there were no signs of human activity. Castiel was about to ask where they were going again when Dean pushed aside the bushes in front of the boulders, revealing a crack in the rocks that looked just wide enough for a fully grown man to fit through.

Dean gestured with exaggerated grandness. “After you, Your Highness.”

Castiel almost laughed. “You’ve got to be joking. You’re robbers and you’ve got a secret cave lair? How much more cliché could you get?”

“Just go in.”

Scoffing, Castiel ducked down, squeezing through the crack into the space inside.

It was bigger than he expected; he was able to straighten up fully. It looked as if the insides of the boulders had been hollowed out to make room for the secret cave. A lantern inside illuminated the darkness. When it started to move, Castiel stepped back in shock, only to see Sam’s face lit up by the lantern in his hand.

“Glad you could make it, Sam,” Dean said, ducking through the crack behind Castiel.

“You too,” Sam said. He nodded to Castiel. “Your High – uh, Castiel.” Looking back at Dean, he asked. “Did Bobby talk to you?”

“Yeah. Tell you about it later,” Dean said, glancing at Castiel. “Let’s get to work now. We have a letter to write.”


	3. Chapter 3

A day ago, if someone had told Castiel that he would be sitting in a secret cave in the forest with two robbers that had kidnapped him and writing a ransom note to his older brother, he would have sent them to the court physician. Now, however, it all felt very surreal, as if he were looking down on somebody else in his body that was, for some reason, helping Sam and Dean work out the wording of the letter.

“It has to sound official,” Dean had said. Sam was very good at this, but Castiel helped grudgingly when he was needed. His only comfort was that this would allow him to return home sooner.

Finally, they finished and sealed up the letter. Sam and Dean had demanded five thousand gold coins in exchange for Castiel’s return. When he first heard the negotiated price, Castiel scoffed.

“Five thousand? I’m worth a lot, Dean, but I’m not worth nearly that much to Michael. He’ll never take the deal.”

“As you keep reminding us,” Dean muttered. “I’m beginning to think you want us to think you’re worth less than you are.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. Dean could choose to be stubborn all he wanted, but it wouldn’t change Castiel’s value.

When they finished, Dean dripped wax over the envelope to seal it shut. He grinned and held up the finished product. “We’ll give this to Jody now, and she’ll have it to the castle by nightfall.”

“Jody?” Castiel asked.

“Our woman on the inside,” Dean said.

“I’ll take it to her.” Sam grabbed the letter and ducked out of the cave.

“Who is this Jody?” Castiel asked before Dean could get up as well.

Dean eyed him. “Why? So you can sell her out as soon as you get back to your castle?”

Castiel shrugged while shaking his head. He hadn’t even thought of this.

“She’s the kingsman in our village,” Dean said. “I guess it’s safe to tell you since she’s not planning on sticking around much longer.”

“There’s a kingsman in your village?”

“There’s a kingsman in every village,” Dean said, giving Castiel a strange look. “What, you didn’t know that?” When Castiel shook his head, Dean’s eyebrows went up. “Hmm. They’re meant to keep order among the masses. We got lucky with Jody. She isn’t too fond of your brother, so she helps us out. Other villages though…let’s just say that some of the kingsmen like the power they’re given a little too much.”

Castiel mulled this over in his mind for a moment. “I suppose this is part of the reason that a number of people aren’t terribly fond of royals.”

Dean let his breath out in an amused huff. “You could say that.”

“Who else should I look out for?”

“Samuel and his little gang, for sure. The Campbells.” Dean sounded irritated, though thankfully not at Castiel this time. “They’re all family – cousins, or cousins twice removed.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I lose track. They’re not too friendly toward people like you. You shouldn’t be too worried about the rest of the band. Most of them are too scared to even look at you.”

“Not you, though,” Castiel said, frowning. “You don’t seem to like me very much, but not in the same way that Samuel doesn’t like me. You don’t seem to care much for decorum, either.”

It was dim in the cave, but Castiel thought he saw a small, bitter smile on Dean’s face. “I’ve got plenty of reasons why I should hate royals just as much as Samuel does. My dad did, and most of the family I have left does. I did too for a long time, but…it just gets exhausting after a while, you know? I could spend all my time and energy glaring in the direction of the castle and waiting for lightning to strike you all dead, or I could try to undo some of the damage you people have done.”

“That’s…noble of you,” Castiel said slowly.

“I’m no fan of royalty, don’t get me wrong. I’m just not going to waste my time trying to undo something broken beyond repair. And as for decorum.” There was definitely a grin on his face now. “I’m not going to go around bowing and scraping.”

“I’ve noticed,” Castiel muttered. He was trying to wrap his mind around what Dean had said. It didn’t seem congruent with his mental image of a selfish, greedy robber that he had always thought to be true.

“Some of the folks out here still think that royals are descendants from the heavens.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “What, and you don’t?”

“Of course not. Complete bullshit, all of it. You’re just people, flesh and blood, like the rest of us.”

“All my tutors growing up taught me that I was a descendant of the divine. It did seem a little far-fetched to me, but why else would we still be ruling the land?”

“Maybe because you’ve got everybody here too terrified to do anything about it!” Dean’s voice took on the disbelieving tone that it often seemed to when talking to Castiel. “The only one willing to stand up to your family’s rule was your oldest brother Lucifer—”

“Don’t talk about him!” Castiel snapped immediately.

“I’m just saying – there are plenty of people who like what he stands for. If it means that the oppressive king that they’ve lived under all their lives is gone, they might be willing to join forces with him.”

“And are you one of those people?” Castiel asked, watching Dean’s face carefully.

“I don’t stand with a man who will murder whole villages to get what he wants.”

Castiel nodded. After a moment of silence, he said quietly, “Michael isn’t oppressive. He’s doing the best that he can in our father’s stead.”

“I don’t think you know all that goes on outside of the castle. It isn’t as happy-go-lucky as your brother might want you to think.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say to that. True, he had rarely been out of the castle walls before today, but surely it couldn’t be as bad as Dean thought. Michael always told him that the kingdom was thriving.

“The lantern is getting low,” Dean said at last. “We should go.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day was spent being watched over by either Dean or Sam. Most of the time Castiel would simply sit in the camp while they went about doing whatever it was robbers spent their days doing. Sometimes he would get bored and follow one of them around until he got too close into their personal space and they told him to go sit down again. Every now and then, one of them would get a whispered message from another robber, and Castiel would be handed off to the other. He was curious to know where they kept disappearing to, but he knew that he wouldn’t get an answer if he asked.

Sam was quieter than Dean when around Castiel. He, at least, seemed to respect Castiel’s position. Castiel wondered if this meant that Sam believed that he was descended from the heavens, but he didn’t know how to ask. Towards the others in the camp, Sam was more open, but he always seemed aware of Castiel watching or tagging along behind him. Dean, on the other hand, sometimes seemed to forget that Castiel was there. From time to time, he would turn around, see Castiel, and grunt as if reminding himself what Castiel was doing there. Castiel wasn’t sure which he preferred.

Meanwhile, he was learning as much as he could about the robbers and their camp. His hands had been tied up again so he couldn’t run even if he wanted to, but he could still find out as much information as possible to use against them when he returned to the castle. He was sure Michael would be pleased to have information to make it easier to hunt his captors down. So far, he had learned that they were near a village – how far from the castle, he wasn’t sure. From the way that the robbers talked, many if not all of them were from the same village. Dean was their leader – that much he had already figured out – but he couldn’t work out why. There were plenty of others here who were older and probably more experienced than Dean. Samuel, for one, as well as the man named Bobby who had called Dean away this morning, and a woman named Ellen. Still, all the others seemed to respect Dean’s authority.

The most he had counted at the camp at one time was sixteen. If that was all of the robbers, it would be easy for a company of knights to round them up to be punished once Castiel was to safety. True, Dean would be executed, and probably Sam and several of the others, but it was only what they had brought upon themselves. All Castiel needed to do now was figure out how to get back to the castle in one piece. He knew that Michael wasn’t going to pay the ransom, so it seemed like escape was his best option at the moment. But surrounded by his captors, his hands tied, with no idea of how to get home, it didn’t seem likely. He would have to bide his time.

That evening, Sam and Charlie made a dinner of stew for the camp of robbers. Dean was gone, so Castiel sat a few feet away from them as they chopped ingredients into a massive pot over the fire. The robbers had gathered in the clearing, excited to eat, and Castiel watched them closely, trying to match the names he heard to faces. Ellen and Jo were the two women, mother and daughter, sitting with the one named Ash, laughing as he tried to blow ale out of his nose. Then there were the Campbells, of course, five of them led by Samuel. Ed and Harry were the two that no one ever seemed to take seriously. Victor seemed immune to smiling. The lanky one named Garth had been there last night when Castiel was kidnapped – he remembered his voice. They certainly didn’t seem like a band of dangerous robbers. If this was really all of them, he couldn’t imagine them being too much of a problem for Michael.

When everyone had been served, including Castiel, Sam prompted them all to raise their tankards of ale. “Today’s been a good day,” he said. “We kidnapped a prince.” A few members of the group chuckled nervously, and Castiel felt everyone’s eyes on him. “We’ve faced some hard times recently but things are beginning to look up. To better days.”

“To better days,” everyone repeated before drinking from their tankards. Castiel, who hadn’t been given any ale, simply watched.

The group began to dig into their meal. Although Sam was sitting near Castiel, he didn’t say anything to him, and Charlie nearby was distinctly avoiding looking at him. Castiel was used to having people ignore him, but he would much rather have Dean’s nonchalance than this uncomfortable silence.

Right on cue, Dean dropped down between him and Sam and began reaching for a bowl for stew. “Good toast, little brother. Serve me up, I’m starving.”

“How was—” Sam started to ask, but Dean caught his eye before he could go on and made a not-so-subtle nod toward Castiel.

“It was spectacular.” Dean clapped Castiel on the back, almost making him spill his stew. “And how’s His Highness now?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel muttered, wondering why only a few seconds ago he had been thinking that he preferred Dean. He couldn’t wait to hand the lot of them over to Michael.

“Any news from Jody?” Dean asked Sam.

“None, but she’ll have reached the castle by now. We should receive a reply sometime tomorrow.”

“Hear that?” Dean smirked at Castiel. “You’ll be back home before you know it.”

Castiel just glared at him.


	4. Chapter 4

It was hard getting to sleep that night. His body was used to feather mattresses, not dirt and knobby tree roots that seemed to stick into his back no matter what position he lay in. He had been given a blanket but no pillow of any sort. When he tried to pile up pine needles to rest his head on it only made his head itch. It didn’t help that he was hyper-aware of the guard that had been posted on him, simply sitting there and watching him. At least Dean had given him some of his clothes to wear, a tunic and pants made of homespun cotton that was much warmer than Castiel’s linen shirt.

He slept on and off. Each time he woke, he had a split second of panic as he tried to remember where he was. He supposed he would never be used to this.

His guard changed every few hours, and every time he woke up, he checked to see if the guard was still awake. If he timed it right, he could slip away without anyone noticing. His hands were still tied, but it wouldn’t be too difficult to find a sharp rock in the forest to cut through the rope. After that, it would only be a matter of finding his way through the woods and somehow getting home without being caught again.

Sometime near dawn, when the sky was just starting to lighten, Castiel woke up yet again. He rolled over to check his guard. Ed – or maybe Harry, he hadn’t quite figured out which was which – had replaced Victor an hour or so ago, but now he was slumped over his javelin, fast asleep.

Castiel’s heart leapt. He sat up quickly, glancing around the camp. Everyone else seemed to be sleeping as well. Hardly daring to breathe, Castiel slid out from under his blanket and stood up. He cringed when his first step crackled in the pine needles, but Ed/Harry didn’t even stir. Still holding his breath, he walked steadily away from the center of the camp.

His let his breath out in a long whoosh as soon as he was into the trees. A smile crept across his face and he resisted the urge to do a small dance of delight right there. He wished he could see the look on Dean’s face when he discovered that Castiel had vanished.

Now he had to concentrate on getting home. There was a rock nearby whose edge looked fairly sharp; Castiel hurried toward it and began rubbing the rope against its edge. It started to fray. “Come on,” he muttered, rubbing faster. Finally, the rope snapped, and Castiel’s hands were free.

Rubbing his chaffed wrists, he looked around. He knew that the castle was in the western side of the kingdom, so perhaps by heading west he would stumble upon a clue to lead him home. He glanced toward the sunrise; that was in the east, so he had to walk with his back to it. Quite proud of himself for figuring this out on his own, he began walking west.

“You’re going to have to try a little harder than that.”

Castiel spun around, his heart in his throat. Dean was leaning against a tree behind him, arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his face.

“Wha…” Castiel murmured. He could have sworn he saw Dean’s sleeping figure in the camp with all the others.

“Come on, Cas, you don’t think I’d set my least reliable man to guard you and not keep a second eye on you. Give me more credit than that.”

Recovering from his shock, Castiel clenched his hands into fists. “I demand that you let me leave.”

“Sorry, Your Highness, can’t do that.”

“Y-you can’t take me back there,” Castiel said, his voice on the verge of breaking. “There are people there that want to kill me and – and – ” He swallowed hard, desperation pressing on his chest. “I’m your prince! You have to do what I say or I’ll…I’ll…”

“You’re forgetting that you have no power out here,” Dean said, still with that infuriating smile on his face. He took a step forward, and Castiel quickly stepped back.

“I’ll run,” he threatened.

“I’ll catch you,” Dean said. “Let’s just make this easier for both of us. Come on.”

Castiel didn’t move. Dean sighed heavily.

“You want to know a little secret?” he asked.

Castiel blinked.

“We’re not real robbers,” Dean said. “Far from it. We’re just a bunch of people from a village.”

“People who decided to steal a prince?”

Dean let out a frustrated breath. “We need the money. We saw a way of getting it.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re just a bunch of greedy commoners too lazy to work for the money you need.”

“That’s _not_ —” Dean started, and for the first time Castiel spotted a flash of real anger in his face. “That’s not what I mean. What I’m trying to say is that real robbers would have killed you for doing this.”

Castiel scoffed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I guess not,” Dean frowned. “Point is, we need you. I’m not going to let anyone kill you while you’re here, so you can stop worrying about that. No matter how much Samuel talks, no matter how many glares he and his gang send your way, he knows that we need the money more than he needs revenge.”

“But Michael will never give you that money,” Castiel insisted, for what felt like the hundredth time. “I’m not worth nearly that much to him.”

“We’ll find some way of getting it out of him.”

“What could you possibly need five thousand gold coins for anyways?”

“That’s not your concern,” Dean said, his voice suddenly sharp.

“I should think it’s my concern! This is _me_ you’re bargaining here!”

“Enough.” Dean strode forward, grabbing Castiel by the elbow. “We’re going back to camp.”

It was no use struggling now, so Castiel followed as Dean walked back toward the camp. The rest of the robbers – not robbers, Castiel reminded himself – were beginning to wake up. Ed/Harry looked like he was about to panic, walking around in circles and tugging at his hair. As soon as he spotted Castiel, he let out a massive sigh of relief and slumped his shoulders forward.

“Better luck next time,” Dean told him as he led Castiel toward the fire, which Sam was building up again.

“Oh good, you found him,” Sam said, glancing at Castiel.

“He didn’t get far,” Dean said, finally letting go of Castiel’s elbow. Castiel was surprised when he didn’t tie his hands back together immediately. Dean sat down by the fire. “Let’s get some breakfast going, I’m hungry.”

 

* * *

 

 Michael’s reply didn’t come until around noon. Castiel could tell that Dean was growing more and more agitated waiting for it as he kept glancing around the edges of the camp and picking at the edges of his sleeves. Every time his eyes fell on Castiel, his brow seemed to furrow a little bit more.

While they were eating lunch, a woman wearing a muddy travel cloak and the insignia of a kingsman on her tunic strode out of the trees. As soon as he spotted her, relief cleared up Dean’s face, and he jumped to his feet.

“Jody,” he sighed. “Am I glad to see you.”

“I wish I could bring better news, Dean,” she said, holding out a letter. Castiel recognized Michael’s seal imposed on the golden wax.

Dean hesitated before taking the letter. Opening it, he barely glanced at the words before his jaw tightened and he crumpled the paper into a ball. “Dammit,” he growled, dropping his head and closing his eyes.

The woman, Jody, had spotted Castiel. She had a sharp, stern face; she didn’t look like many of the kingsmen Castiel had seen before. “This is the prince?” she asked.

“That’s him,” Sam said, because Dean was now straightening out the letter and reading over it again.

Jody looked Castiel up and down. “He doesn’t look worth five thousand coins. Are you sure you weren’t just asking for too much, Dean?”

Dean and Sam exchanged glances. “It’s what we need,” Dean said.

“We need to figure out our next move,” Sam murmured to Dean.

“Right.” Dean nodded to Castiel. “What about him?”

“Hey, Charlie,” Sam called, and a second later she appeared next to him, an expectant smile on her face. “Take the prince for an hour or so, will you? Make sure he doesn’t try to run away again.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, her grin sliding away. “Me? Uh, are you sure I should do that? Maybe somebody else can—”

“Charlie, please,” Sam said.

She seemed to notice the imploring tone of his voice and the way that Dean was reading the letter once again with a desperate expression. “Okay, on it!” She snapped a salute, as if for good measure. “Uh, come on then, Your – um, Castiel.”

Charlie hurried away from the brothers, and Castiel followed more slowly. He glanced back to see that Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Jody had formed a small circle and were arguing quietly together.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with a prince for a whole hour?” Castiel heard Charlie muttering. He turned back toward her and saw that she was talking to Jo, who eyed Castiel uncertainly.

“How am I supposed to know?” Jo hissed.

“I’m still right here, you know,” Castiel said, and both of the girls looked startled.

“Of course!” Charlie said quickly. “Why don’t we, uh…” She looked at Jo helplessly.

“Take him to the village,” Jo jumped in. “Mom wanted to, anyways. She said it would be good for the people to see.”

“To the village it is!” Charlie said.

The two girls started walking, with Castiel trailing just behind. He looked back at Dean and the others again. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Dean?” Charlie asked, looking back as well. “Hell if I know. Dean doesn’t tell us much.”

“So you don’t know what all of this is about?”

“We have a few ideas,” Jo said. “But no, we’re not exactly in the loop.”

“You just heard that they were kidnapping a prince and thought ‘Why not’?”

Jo huffed out a breath. “I trust Dean. If he says this is what we need to do, I’ll follow him.”

Castiel shook his head. It was this kind of blind trust that made ordinary villagers into robbers and endangered the whole kingdom.

“Here it is!” Charlie exclaimed. “The village of St. Lawrence!”

A building was emerging through the trees, then another, and another. They were small, poorly constructed shacks with thatched rooves and empty windows where there should have been glass. All the buildings were packed closely together, as if leaning on each other for support. The village, from what Castiel could see of it, was tiny. There couldn’t have been more than thirty buildings in total; the whole area would hardly take up a single wing of the castle. Castiel didn’t see many people in the wide street that ran through the center of the village, but the ones that he saw only gave him quick, wary glances before hurrying on. They were dressed practically in rags.

“You people _live_ like this?” he murmured.

“It’s not that bad,” Jo said defensively. “It’s better than living as some pampered prince in a castle with servants waiting on you hand and foot for every minute of your life.”

Castiel opened his mouth to retort, but Charlie cut in. “Okay, we’ll just leave it at that. Let’s show him around, Jo.”

They began walking along the main street. Castiel stared wide-eyed around himself. Surely this had to be some kind of trick. He had never been to any of the villages in the kingdom, but from what he’d seen of the commoners that came and went out of the castle, this level of poverty just wasn’t normal. How could there be places in the kingdom so destitute without him knowing about them?

Charlie was talking rapidly. “And this is Jody’s house – Alex is probably around here somewhere too. That’s her adopted daughter. She wanted to join our band of robbers, but Jody said she was too young. Oh! And here’s Ellen’s Roadhouse, where Jo lives! Everybody comes here for any kind of get together. My house is right over there!” She pointed, then stopped for a moment, frowning. “Do you think maybe we’re not supposed to be telling him this stuff?” she asked Jo.

Before Jo could reply, a new voice interrupted them.

“Charlie, Jo! Have you seen Sam – oh!”

Another young woman with blonde curls had stepped out of the Roadhouse but stopped suddenly upon seeing Castiel. Her eyes widened as she seemed to realize who he was, and she looked at the others questioningly.

“Yep, that’s him,” Charlie affirmed. “Probably why Sam hasn’t come to see you.”

The woman quickly dropped into a low curtsy. “Your Highness!”

“No need for any of that, Jess,” Jo said. “He’s no royalty here.”

Castiel bristled but said nothing.

“Oh…alright.” The woman straightened up, then stuck out her hand. “Jessica Moore.”

Hesitantly, Castiel reached out to shake her hand. “Castiel.”

“Yes, I know who you are.” She had a wide, friendly smile.

“We’re showing him around the village!” Charlie said. “Everybody else is doing the important things, so we got stuck with him.” Seeing Castiel’s expression, she quickly added, “Not that that’s a bad thing!”

“Would you like to come inside to see the Roadhouse?” Jessica asked.

Castiel shrugged, which Jessica seemed to take as confirmation. She led the way into the run-down building that she had come from, the sign over the door reading “The Roadhouse.” Inside, it was dim and somewhat musty. There were a number of rickety looking tables and chairs set up around the room, and a bar with barrels stacked behind the counter.

Jo breathed in deeply, looking like she actually enjoyed the smell. “Mmm. Home sweet home.”

Jessica went behind the bar and leaned against it comfortably as if she had done this hundreds of times. “Would any of you like anything?”

Charlie and Jo asked for mugs of ale, but Castiel declined. They ended up sitting at the counter, Castiel somehow in the middle.

“Jessica’s practically been running this place since Mom, Ash, and I joined Dean’s robber group,” Jo told Castiel, as if he would be interested in something like this.

Jessica beamed. “Well, I’m more use here than pretending to be a robber with all the rest of you. I’m not quite cut out for all of that.”

“Too bad, or else you’d get to spend more time with Sam,” Charlie said in a singsong, teasing voice.

The light in the Roadhouse was dim, but Castiel could distinctly see a blush spread across Jessica’s face. “Shut up, Sam and I are just friends.”

Charlie scoffed. “Yeah, just like Bobby and Ellen are just friends. Sorry, Jo,” she added when Jo choked into her mug.

 _"Excuse me?_ ” Jo demanded.

“Come on, I’m totally right, aren’t I?” Charlie said, looking at Jessica.

“Sorry, Jo, but I think so.”

“Oh, God,” Jo groaned, covering her face with her hand.

Castiel was trying very hard not to roll his eyes at this point. He stopped focusing on what they were talking about after that point since he didn’t recognize most of the names that they mentioned. Instead, he thought about how he could make a second escape attempt. He doubted he could fight off both Jo and Charlie if it came down to it; he had never been much interested in combat training like Uriel and Raphael. To avoid fighting them, he would somehow have to distract them for long enough to run away. He wouldn’t get very far making a break for it now, but perhaps if he waited for the right opportunity.

Before he could figure out his new plan, he heard the door of the Roadhouse open again.

“Hate to interrupt, ladies, but I need to steal the prince back,” Dean said.

Castiel tried not to let his disappointment show as Dean approached. The frustration he had seen on Dean’s face when got Michael’s letter was nowhere to be found; Dean was smiling placidly.

“Oh!” Charlie exclaimed. “I hope it’s okay that we brought him to the village. That’s okay, right? I wasn’t really sure, but I didn’t know what else to do with him, and Jo said Ellen said—”

“It’s fine, Charlie,” Dean cut in. “He might as well know everything now. Come on, Cas.”

Scowling at the nickname, Castiel walked toward him. They left the Roadhouse and started back in the direction of the camp.

It wasn’t until they were well into the trees that a horrible thought crossed Castiel’s mind. He stopped walking. “You’re going to kill me.”

Dean stopped as well, turning back to look at him with a look of confusion. “What?”

“You said I might as well know everything now. You don’t care if I know. You couldn’t get the money from Michael, so you’re going to kill me now, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean muttered. He started forward to grab Castiel’s arm, but Castiel quickly stepped back.

“Tell me the truth, Dean!” he said in his most authoritative voice.

Dean exhaled heavily, looking Castiel in the eye. “I am telling the truth. And I was before too, when I told you that you’re too valuable for us to let go. We’re not going to kill you, Cas. I swear to you, no harm will come to you while you’re with us.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you? The word of a robber and a traitor?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know what else to give you.”

“If you’re not going to kill me, what are you going to do with me?” Castiel asked cautiously.

“Don’t worry your royal head about it, we’ve got a plan.”

“And are you going to tell me that plan?”

“Not at the moment, no. Are you coming or what?”

Castiel finally let Dean grab his arm and pull him toward the camp again.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean didn’t tell Castiel anything about their new plan all day. Castiel noticed that Jody wasn’t around the camp and he wondered if she was bringing another letter to Michael to negotiate new terms. Castiel doubted that they could do anything to make Michael pay, but he didn’t say this. Every time he brought something like this up, Dean seemed to get more annoyed and agitated.

That night, Charlie convinced Dean to let Castiel go back to the Roadhouse with her, where some of the villagers were holding a party to celebrate the fact that they had successfully kidnapped a prince. Castiel was wary, but Charlie insisted on dragging him along.

The second they stepped into the Roadhouse, Castiel was overwhelmed by all the noise and movement inside. It seemed like every person in the village had squeezed into the room, all of them talking and laughing loudly. However, a hush instantly fell over the crowd when Castiel appeared. Everyone turned to stare at him; jaws dropped, whispers were exchanged, and somebody’s tankard fell to the ground.

“Well, everyone,” Charlie announced to the room. “This is our resident royal, Prince Castiel.”

Everyone stared as Charlie and Castiel made their way toward the bar, where Jessica poured Charlie a drink. She offered one to Castiel as well, but he declined. Slowly, the noise began to pick back up in the room as the villagers tore their eyes away from Castiel.

“Is this really what it’s like all the time?” he asked Charlie, watching as Ed and Harry arm-wrestled over a stale-looking teacake.

“Mostly, yeah,” Charlie grinned. “People are really happy now because things are finally starting to get better for us. Isn’t it great?”

“I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use,” Castiel muttered.

“No way!” Charlie had spotted someone. “Dorothy? Come over here!”

A young woman wearing a travelling cloak appeared out of the crowd. When she reached them, Charlie threw her arms around her.

“You made it! I wasn’t sure – the roads have been kind of rough lately,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, there are kingsmen everywhere,” the woman said. “Looking for him, I’m guessing.” She nodded toward Castiel.

“Of course,” Charlie smiled. “Dorothy, meet Castiel. Cas, this is my girlfriend, Dorothy.”

Castiel noted Charlie’s arm resting around Dorothy’s waist. He nodded in greeting.

“So you’re the royal, huh?” Dorothy looked him up and down, an unamused smile on her face. “Did you know that your brother is the reason my family lost its farm?”

“Hey, leave him alone,” Charlie said. “It’s not his fault his brother is a dick.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Castiel murmured.

“How’re things back in old St. Lawrence?” Dorothy asked, turning her attention back towards Charlie.

“Fine. You should come visit more often though, you’re gone too much…”

Their conversation was obviously one that Castiel was not included on, so he stopped paying attention and looked around the Roadhouse. He recognized many of the robbers’ faces here. To his surprise, he spotted Dean sitting at one of the corner tables with Samuel. It looked like they were arguing heatedly but Castiel couldn’t hear what was being said.

Not far from where Castiel sat, Sam and Jessica were talking, leaning over the bar counter towards each other as if the rest of the world was invisible. Across the room, Jo and Ash were having what looked like a drinking contest while others crowded around them and cheered them on. Ellen was hovering near Jo looking concerned, but Castiel spotted Bobby touch her shoulder and she seemed to relax. A teenage girl with dark hair was trying to make a break away from the bar holding a mug of ale but Jody intercepted her and took the ale away.

Castiel frowned. Jody was here – shouldn’t she be delivering a new message to Michael? Perhaps that wasn’t Dean’s plan after all.

“So what do you think?” a familiar voice said close to Castiel’s ear. He jumped, turning away from Jody. Dean was leaning against the bar counter, an easy smile on his face as if he hadn’t just been arguing with Samuel. Castiel glanced around quickly and spotted Samuel now surrounded by the other Campbells, talking hurriedly.

“It’s a bit overwhelming,” he admitted.

“Better than the stuffy royal parties you have at the castle, though, right?”

Castiel thought back to the countless parties he had attended in the castle’s ballroom. The difference between those and what was happening here was so huge that it seemed wrong to even call them the same thing. At the castle parties, he was supposed to watch every word he said for fear of offending someone. He could only drink in small amounts, barely eat, and had to stay on his feet for hours at a time.

“I’m not sure about that,” he said. “There, at least, I knew my place.”

He hadn’t meant for that to come out sounding so bitter. Dean just grinned and clapped him on the back a little too hard, almost sending him face first into the counter.

“Come on, Cas. All you’ve got to do here is have a little fun,” Dean said. He reached across the counter and grabbed a full tankard that didn’t seem to belong to anyone. “Here, it helps if you’re a little bit drunk.”

Castiel looked down at the frothy brown liquid. He gave Dean an incredulous look, but tipped it back and drank a mouthful.

“Agh!” he exclaimed, nearly spitting it back out. His face screwed up, he pushed the disgusting drink back toward Dean. “No thank you! You people drink this stuff for fun?”

“It’s an acquired taste, I guess.” Dean was having a hard time hiding his smile. “And it doesn’t help that you keep referring to us as ‘you people.’ If you want to fit in here, you have to accept that fact that you are, in fact, a human being.”

Castiel scowled. “I don’t _want_ to fit in here.”

“Suit yourself. You can keep moping by yourself at the bar…” He pushed the tankard back toward Castiel. “Or you could have a little fun for once.”

Hesitantly, Castiel picked the tankard back up. He looked at Dean, who nodded encouragingly. Grimacing, Castiel took another sip. It was just as disgusting as before but somehow more tolerable.

Dean huffed impatiently. “You can’t just sip it like a dainty little prince, you have to swig it. Like this.” He snatched the tankard out of Castiel’s hand and tipped his head back, taking an enormous swig of ale. When he resurfaced, his upper lip was covered in foam. He shoved the tankard back to Castiel. “Now you try.”

“Ugh, I’m not drinking from that now!” Castiel tried to give it back, but Dean wouldn’t let him.

“What are you, scared of a little spit? Don’t be a wuss, Cas. Drink!”

“That’s disgusting!” Castiel insisted, as Dean tried to shove the tankard toward him. Dean was laughing, a full bodied laugh that split his face and made the corners of his eyes crinkle up, and Castiel found himself…smiling.

“I don’t believe it!” Dean exclaimed, giving up his efforts. “The prince does know how to smile!”

“No I don’t,” Castiel said, turning away from Dean and trying to cover his smile with his hand.

“Come on, Cas, let’s see it!”

“I’m not smiling,” Castiel repeated, pressing his lips together in an attempt to control his face. When he looked back at Dean, the other man was grinning hugely, the crinkles around his eyes becoming more pronounced. Castiel decided that the strange feeling in his stomach was probably as a result of the ale he had drunk.

“One drink, Cas,” Dean wheedled. “I promise this party will be a lot more fun.”

Giving in, Castiel grabbed the tankard and took a massive swig just as Dean had showed him.


	6. Chapter 6

After finishing off the tankard, Castiel started to feel an odd buzzing sensation throughout his whole body. It was easier to relax this way, but he decided it was best to stop drinking now. He wanted to stay sharp, knowing that his chance for escape could still come at any time, and he had seen what a few too many drinks could do to his brothers. In fact, he was seeing some of those same things now.

Jo had won the drinking contest, leaving Ash groaning face down on the table. Garth, Bobby, and Victor had their arms around each other and were loudly singing a song that Castiel didn’t recognize but that would surely make him blush if he were completely sober. Charlie and Dorothy were having a hard time keeping their hands off each other. Sam and Jess were still engrossed in conversation, oblivious to what was going on around them.

Dean stayed close to Castiel, no doubt to gloat every time a smile crept onto Castiel’s lips, which seemed to be happening more and more frequently. Every time it did, Dean let out a loud “Hah!” which somehow wasn’t enough to wipe Castiel’s smile away. It seemed that Dean was immune to drinking. No matter how many tankards he emptied, he was hardly affected. Which didn’t seem fair at all.

At first, Castiel stayed at the counter, watching the chaos with mild amusement, but somehow Jo got ahold of his arm and dragged him away. She and a couple others were playing a game in which they tried to bounce small rubber balls into tankards a few yards away, and Castiel was apparently needed to even out the teams. He tried to decline, insisting that he didn’t know how to play and wouldn’t be any help to them, but Jo wouldn’t take no for an answer. He discovered that he was fairly good though, at least compared to the others, but he guessed that a large part of this had to do with the fact that many of the others were drunk. Jo kept leaning on him as if she was about to fall over, and Ellen was too busy laughing at Bobby’s singing to notice.

Once the game was finished – that is, once everyone but Castiel was too drunk to continue – Castiel returned to his spot at the counter by Dean. Almost immediately, though, Bobby dragged Dean away, insisting that he join them in their next song.

It was amusing, to say the least. Bobby, Garth, and Victor were so drunk that their words slurred together and the tune was all over the place, so it ended up being Dean bravely carrying the tune singlehandedly. At one point, Garth collapsed sideways onto Dean, almost making the both of them tumble off the chairs that they were standing on, but Dean managed to catch him and lift him up bridal-style. Castiel burst out laughing despite himself. Dean caught his eye and grinned.

After that, the party began to wind down as the villagers started to head back to their homes. Dean disappeared at some point, leaving Castiel uncertain of what to do from here. He was one of the last ones left sitting at the bar. When he spotted Jo, half asleep and slumped against a table, he decided he should take her back to camp. With a quiet goodnight to Jessica, who was wiping down the counter, he scooped his arm under Jo’s shoulder to help her up.

Castiel ignored Jo’s incoherent mumbling as he half-carried, half-dragged her out of the Roadhouse. It was dark, but he had a general idea of how to get back to the camp from here so he started down the main street.

He stopped at the village’s edge. The road extended onward into the dark, disappearing among the trees. It would be so easy to just start walking, to keep going until he found a kingsman to lead him back to the palace. He could claim his freedom, and all of this could just fade into a memory.

Jo snuffled loudly in his ear and he looked down at her. He couldn’t just leave her here on the road. Besides, it was stupid to go walking through the woods in the middle of the night without any sort of weapon. And hadn’t Dean said he had a plan?

Turning away from the road, he started in the direction of the camp.

Unfortunately, he must have remembered the route back incorrectly because he stopped where he thought the camp was supposed to be, frowning. Jo sighed loudly, slouching lower and making Castiel groan with the added weight. He looked around helplessly.

Somewhere off to his right he glimpsed the flicker of a flame. It was distant and dim, but it was definitely there. Somebody must have relit the fire back at the camp.

Hoisting Jo up more steadily, Castiel started walking in the direction of the fire. As he got closer, though, it became clear that this wasn’t a campfire. This flame was smaller and it kept moving around. A torch? Uncertain that it came from a friendly source, Castiel crept forward as quietly as he could manage.

Jo started to make noises again and Castiel didn’t want to be discovered just yet. He figured he was close enough to the fire to remain within earshot of Jo in case anything happened to her, so he laid her down gently against a tree and continued on. The light was just up ahead, and now Castiel could see the shapes of two figures close to it.

He stopped a few feet away, just outside the glow cast off from the torch. The girl holding the torch was unfamiliar to him. She had a round face and wavy dark hair and a smile on her face that didn’t look warm at all. Facing her, with his back toward Castiel was…Dean?

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it,” the girl said. “It’s five thousand, or nothing.”

“Please, Meg,” Dean said, his voice low and desperate. “He’s not taking it. He’s not taking _anything_.”

“Then perhaps you should have kidnapped a sibling that he actually cares about,” Meg said wryly. Castiel realized with a jolt that they were talking about him.

Dean growled in frustration. “We didn’t know, okay? Come on, there’s got to be some other way.”

Meg tapped her chin in an exaggerated show of thinking hard. “Well, you know what the other part of the deal was.”

“Michael himself?” Dean scoffed. “Even you know that’s impossible.”

“Maybe so. But perhaps we could work something out… Instead, give us the little prince and we’ll—”

“No,” Dean said immediately. Castiel’s blood felt like ice.

“Oh come on, he’s worth nothing to you now,” Meg said, grinning.

“It’s not happening,” Dean said firmly. “I’m not handing over another person’s life to that sick, twisted—”

“So you’d sacrifice your whole village for one little prince?” Meg clicked her tongue, almost teasingly. “You need to work out what your priorities are, Deano.”

Dean was silent, and Castiel saw his shoulders slump forward.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow night to think it over,” Meg said. “But hurry…Lucifer is not a patient man.”

Castiel’s stomach dropped. The only thing that kept him from collapsing where he stood was his tight grip on the tree trunk in front of him. Meg and her torch disappeared, plunging the forest into darkness. Dean still hadn’t moved.

For a few moments, all Castiel could do was concentrate on breathing properly. Then he heard the crack of a twig as Dean moved, snapping him out of it.

Shaking, he stepped out from behind the tree. It was dark, but Dean spotted him immediately, his hand going to the sword at his belt. Before he could draw it, Castiel hissed, “You lied to me.”

Dean went still. “Cas?” he whispered.

“You told me that I was safe here, that no harm would come to me.” His voice rose louder and louder. “And all this time you were working with my traitor brother! Waiting for the right moment to sell me off to him!”

“Cas, no! That’s not what—”

“Stop lying to me!” Castiel was shouting now. “I heard that whole thing. That woman Meg is with Lucifer!”

“Listen to me, it’s not—”

“Has everything you’ve said been a lie?” Castiel demanded. “I’ll bet you didn’t even send that letter to Michael. It’s all just been a setup, and you put on this whole act to make me want to trust you, just so that you could turn around and sell me off to my brother!”

Castiel stood still, breathing hard as Dean dropped his head. “I know what this looks like but I promise you it’s not what you think.”

“There you go making up more lies! Are you ever going to stop—”

“Listen to me!” Dean shouted. Alarmed, Castiel took a step back. The shadow of Dean’s arm lifted up to rub his forehead as Dean groaned. “I can explain everything if you’ll just listen.”

“I’m not going to believe a word you say,” Castiel spat, but didn’t move from where he stood.

“Fine, but hear me out at least, will you?”

Castiel said nothing and Dean seemed to take that as affirmation.

"I know what you heard. And I know how this is going to sound, but I swear to you everything I say now is the truth. I may have left some things out before, but I have not lied to you." He took a deep breath. "St. Lawrence is near the border of the kingdom. I don't know how much you heard back at that palace of yours, but border towns aren't very safe, especially these days. It's too hard for kingsmen to get out here quickly, and it's too easy for enemies to try to take control. Especially now that Lucifer is acting up. You know all about that, of course."

Castiel nodded even though he doubted Dean could see him in the darkness. Six years ago, Castiel's oldest brother Lucifer had revealed himself as a traitor to their father by trying to overthrow him. Lucifer failed and he was banished, which then led to their father's disappearance. Michael took over then, and Lucifer and his army of lowlifes and outlaws had begun terrorizing the kingdom in an attempt to dethrone him.

"A month ago, one of Lucifer's people, Lilith, came to us," Dean went on, his voice heavy. "She offered us a deal. If we didn't want St. Lawrence to be taken over by Lucifer’s army and all our people to be forced to serve him, we had to pay him five thousand gold coins. Which they knew would be impossible, of course."

"Why didn't you just move?" Castiel asked, his voice quieter than he thought it would be.

"You think we should've left our homes behind and gone wandering through a kingdom that’s anything but kind to its underprivileged, trying to feed and take care of everyone while searching for a new home in a kingdom at war? Yeah, not so realistic, Cas. Besides, not very many people knew about it - just me, Sam, Bobby, and Samuel. We didn't want to spread panic around."

"Meg said something about another part of the deal," Castiel said.

"Yeah," Dean said, a note of bitter amusement in his voice. "They said if we couldn't get the money, we could always give them Michael himself. Just an extra little 'fuck you' to us, I guess. But that's what gave us the idea of kidnapping you. Michael would be impossible, but we hoped… We hoped to ransom you for the money."

"Why me? Why not Anna, or any of my other brothers for that matter?"

Castiel saw the outline of Dean's shoulders shrugging. "You were the easiest one to get to. Did you know they only post one guard at your door? Michael has, like, ten. Even your sister has more than you. And there are no guards anywhere near your window. After we drugged you, you just slept through the whole thing. It was almost too easy.”

"You should've taken the extra effort, then," Castiel muttered. "Like I told you, Michael doesn't care about me enough to give up five thousand coins."

Dean put his hands up in exaggerated defense. “I thought that family looked out for each other.”

Castiel looked down. "Not my family."

Dean was silent for a moment, before taking a small step forward. "Cas..."

"Don't," Castiel snarled, stepping back. "Don't pretend to feel sorry for me.” For a moment, they were both silent as Castiel took a deep breath. Still feeling defensive, he said, “You haven't finished explaining yourself. Meg offered you a new deal, to give me to Lucifer instead, and you were going to take it, weren't you?"

"What? No!" Dean sounded alarmed. "Cas, how could you even—”

"How could I think that?" Castiel interrupted, huffing out an angry breath. "Let's think, shall we? First, you kidnapped me, which should be cause enough for me not to trust you. Then you lie to me about what all of this is about. I think I have every right to think that you could possibly be thinking to hand me over to my brother."

"That's not what—”

"You didn't even have a plan, did you? You lied to me about that, too. All I get from you are lies, Dean!"

Dean hung his head. "You're right. We didn't have a plan - not a solid one at least. I was hoping that when I met with Meg, we could work something new out. That didn't work, but we _will_ come up with something!"

"Like what? You're out of options, Dean, and we both know it. The only thing you can do now is hand me over."

"I don't know, Cas. I don't know what we're going to do." Dean's voice was soft. "But I swear to you, I will never hand you over to that man. Not while I'm still breathing."

"Then you're going to give up on your village? Let it be taken over by Lucifer just so that you don't have to give me over? You can't make that call, Dean - I may be a prince, but I'm not worth the lives of every person back there!"

"I don't know!" Dean exclaimed, sounding frustrated. "Maybe I'll have to, if that's what it takes!"

"Why?" Castiel demanded. "I'm no more important than any of them."

"You're different. You're..." Dean threw his hands up, groaning.

"I'm what? What makes me so different, Dean?"

"Does it matter?" Dean shouted.

"Yes it does matter—”

"No, it doesn't, so just leave it alone! The important thing is that I'm not giving you or anyone else to that son of a bitch. Okay?"

Still not satisfied, Castiel stood in sulking silence.

"Listen, Cas," Dean sighed. "I know this is insane, but we'll figure something out. We'll find a way to keep you and everyone else in that village safe."

"Meg only gave you until tomorrow," Castiel said quietly. "How are you going to do it before then?"

Dean rubbed his hand over his face. "I don't know, Cas, I just... We'll work it out, okay? Maybe we can send another letter to Michael or something..."

"Michael." Castiel’s eyes widened. "Dean, I think I have an idea.”


	7. Chapter 7

They planned most of it throughout the next morning while everyone else slept off their hangovers. It was a while before anyone was of any use at all, and by the time Sam was lucid enough to scowl at them over his breakfast, they had already mapped out the entire thing.

The others were shocked to hear of the new deal that Meg had offered, and even more shocked to discover that Castiel was now aware of the situation and willing to help them. Although he didn't say it, Bobby was obviously guarded toward Castiel, which seemed odd considering that Castiel was the one here who had been kidnapped. Still, he figured that he would also be a little cautious of someone who had apparently switched sides overnight.

"What I don't get," Sam said eventually, looking at Castiel, "is why you're even helping us. Wasn't it just yesterday that you were trying to escape?"

Castiel glanced at Dean. "To be honest, I'd much prefer this to being murdered by my brother. If that answers your question."

Dean rolled his eyes, trying to force back a smile.

The plan was fairly simple: Dean would pretend to give Castiel over to Lucifer, but in the process the robber band would pop out of the bushes and capture Lucifer instead, bringing him to Michael as a peace offering for kidnapping Castiel. There were about a thousand things that could go wrong, but Castiel was trying not to think about it. If this worked, Dean's name would be cleared, the war with Lucifer would be over, and Castiel would be able to go home.

"What if Lucifer himself doesn't come?" Sam wondered as they went over the details of the plan over lunch for what felt like the hundredth time.

"He'll come," Castiel assured him. “My brother is proud. If this has anything to do with family and being able to prove that he’s stronger than the rest of us, then he’ll be there. He’ll want to see the look on my face.”

Dean had sent word to Meg that he was taking her up on the deal. There wasn't much to do now but wait.

Castiel was watching Dean sharpen his sword, his confidence from earlier dissolving as the time grew nearer. "What if it doesn't work?" he asked quietly.

Dean looked up. "It'll work, Cas."

"But what if it doesn't?" Castiel hoped Dean couldn't hear the nervousness in his voice.

"Then it'll be bad," Dean said, his face grim. "I'm not gonna sugarcoat it for you - people will probably die, including you and me. But wouldn't you rather go out fighting than just roll over and give up?"

"You're not making me feel any better," Castiel muttered.

Dean smiled, putting down his sword. "You know what? I've got something for you."

He reached for the cord that hung around his neck, the one with the strange looking amulet that he always wore. Taking it off, he held it out to Castiel.

"What is it?" Castiel asked, hesitantly taking the amulet. It was made of some metal, heavier than he expected, scratched and stained like it had been through a lot.

"That thing burns hot when you're in danger," Dean said. "It's saved my life a couple times. I don't know if it'll help at all, but it could be a consolation at the very least."

"How did you get something like this?" Castiel held the amulet up to look at it more closely. It didn't look much like a magical object, but he wasn't entirely sure what a magical object was supposed to look like. "Witchcraft has been banned for decades."

Dean smiled. "It was my mother's."

Castiel looked at him in surprise.

"It was the reason she died, actually," Dean said. "It was in her family for generations, given to them by some witch long before it was banned. But she got caught with this by some kingsmen, and they assumed she had cast the spell on it. She was burned alive for witchcraft - ordered by your father."

Castiel's throat felt dry. "Dean, I'm—”

"You don't need to apologize for something you had nothing to do with," Dean interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "Of course, my dad blamed everyone royal for what happened to her. Devoted his life to trying to bring down the throne." He laughed humorlessly. "Probably would have joined Lucifer if he was still alive.”

“What…what happened to him?” Castiel was almost afraid to hear the answer.

“It was his obsession with revenge that killed him - he was executed for being a traitor about eight years ago. He wore this amulet as a reminder of the people that took his wife away from him. I wear it as a reminder that searching for revenge will only tear you apart."

"And is that why Samuel is so..." Castiel trailed off.

Dean glanced over to where Samuel and the other Campbells were gathered. "Yeah. My mom was his daughter, and he's hell bent on taking it out on whatever royals he can. He seems to have forgotten that my mom hated all this. She just wanted to have a safe, normal life. That's probably what she wanted for me and Sam too, but..." He dropped his gaze.

Castiel looked down at the amulet in his hand. "Dean, I can't take this."

"No, Cas, it's fine!" Dean assured him.

"It's a part of your family - I can't intrude on that." He held his hand out toward Dean.

"You can give it back to me later! Please, Cas. I want to you take it." Dean closed Castiel's fingers around the amulet. His hand stayed clasped over Castiel's, warm and rough and dry. Castiel swallowed hard, meeting Dean's eyes. When had that green begun to shine brighter than all of the trees around them?

"We need to start letting everyone else know what's going on," Bobby said loudly from behind Dean. Castiel pulled his hand away quickly and Dean coughed loudly, dropping his eyes.

"Right," Dean said, his voice sounding gruffer than normal. "I'll...go do that."

He stood and moved toward the others as Bobby gave Castiel a strange look and followed him.

For a few moments, Castiel didn't move. Then slowly, he opened up his hand, looking down at the amulet there. He had been squeezing it so tightly that there was an imprint of it on his palm. He quickly closed his fist around it again and stood up to follow Dean.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the band took to the plan of capturing Lucifer about as well as could be expected. There was a pair amount of horrified looks and angry mutterings and no one looked even remotely excited about the idea. But when Dean explained the situation, telling them that this was their only option that didn't include anyone dying (hopefully), they at least seemed willing to help. Dean explained the whole plan to them, assigning different people to different tasks, and answering a barrage of questions.

After, Samuel stormed up to Dean, his face thunderous. "Why was I not told about this?" he demanded. "I thought I was a part of the planning on this."

"You were, but we'd like to actually keep the prince alive," Dean said. "We all know that you wouldn't hesitate to throw him to Lucifer if you could—”

"And good riddance too," Samuel growled.

"And that's exactly why you weren’t a part of this one. Nobody's going to die tonight if we can help it. Any more questions?"

Samuel looked as if there was a lot more he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut and stalked away toward the other Campbells.

"I'm probably going to regret that later," Dean muttered, turning back toward Castiel. "Well, how do you feel?"

Castiel gripped the amulet around his neck and lied. "Fine, I suppose."

"Good." Dean glanced up at the sky. "The sun is starting to go down. We need to get everyone into position soon. Meg said they’ll be here an hour after sunset."

Dinner was subdued since nobody seemed to have much of an appetite, Castiel least of all. He picked at his meat, some sort of roasted bird that he didn't have the heart to ask about, but hardly swallowed any. Even Dean didn't seem to be very hungry, which was surprising given what Castiel had seen of Dean’s appetite the past few days. He watched as Dean kept tearing off tiny bits of his stale bread and tossing it to the birds that were brave enough to come close to him.

Finally, it was time. The sun had nearly disappeared behind the trees and Castiel saw the same nervousness on everyone's faces that he felt himself. The group cleaned up the camp, making it look as if no one had been here. Then they moved toward the meeting place.

"I don't know how you're planned on stuffing, like, fifteen people in there," Charlie muttered, frowning at the boulders with the hollowed out insides that Dean had brought Castiel to on the first day he had been here.

"It's bigger than you think," Dean said. "But it'll be a tight fit."

Before everyone went inside, they gathered up wood, building up a bonfire whose flames nearly reached Castiel's height. By the time it was done, darkness was gathering. The rest of the group filed into the hidden boulder cave, and Dean counted them off.

"Where are the Campbells?" he asked once everyone was inside. He peered into the cave. "Are Samuel and the Campbells in there?"

Evidently he wasn't, because Dean growled, "Dammit," and glanced at Sam behind him. “I didn’t see them leave, did you?”

"No. We'll just have to do it without them.”

"Fine," Dean muttered, turning back toward the cave. "I don't have to remind you that you can't say a word," he told the group inside. "Or else we'll all be killed. Me first, most likely, and I'd like to avoid that."

Dean arranged the bushes in front of the entrance so that there was no trace of anyone having been there, leaving just himself, Castiel, and Sam out in the open. While Sam stacked up more wood beside the bonfire, Dean tied Castiel’s hands behind his back.

"It's a trick knot," he said. "It looks real, but when you pull on this end here—” He demonstrated. "—it comes undone." Then he slipped a switchblade into Castiel back pocket. "Just in case."

The only thing to do then was wait.

It felt like much longer than an hour after the sun went down when Castiel felt something hot on his chest. He looked down at the amulet around his neck that was burning almost painfully hot. "Dean," he said. Dean looked followed his gaze to the amulet and his jaw tightened.

"They're coming."

While Sam built the fire up higher, they watched the shadows around them for any sign of movement. Dean held Castiel's wrist behind his back. The amulet seemed to burn hotter and hotter against Castiel's chest.

Then something moved in the bushes up ahead. Dean's grip on Castiel's wrist tightened.

"Do you trust me?" he breathed in Castiel's ear, his proximity sending shivers down Castiel's neck.

Castiel swallowed hard. _I'm going to regret this_. "Yes," he whispered.

The figure that stepped into the firelight was smaller than Castiel expected. It wasn't Lucifer, but Meg, the woman that had talked to Dean the night before. In the glow of the bonfire, her dark hair looked fiery red.

A wide smile spread across her face when she spotted Castiel. "Good. I was expecting you to bail out on us."

"Well, I didn't," Dean said tightly. "Where is he?"

"He's here, just hanging back. He didn't want to get too involved in this one."

"No. The deal was that he comes himself. I need to hear from his mouth that our village will be safe."

"Alright then, if that's what you really want," Meg sighed, turning to look back into the trees that she had appeared from.

Castiel could feel his heart pounding in his chest so hard that it almost hurt. Dean must have felt it too because he squeezed Castiel's wrist.

They were only waiting a few moments before there was movement from the shadows again. The figure of a man emerged, the firelight casting odd, disconcerting shadows across his face. Castiel almost stopped breathing as he looked at his brother for the first time in six years.

"I see you've carried out your end of the deal," Lucifer said, his voice that same silky murmur that Castiel remembered.

"Yes," Dean said, and Castiel could hear the barely hidden fear in his voice. "Now it's your turn."

"Very well. Your village will be spared. I swear it. Now...my brother please?"

Dean shoved Castiel forward, more roughly than Castiel had expected, and he almost stumbled. He quickly straightened up, holding his head up as he walked toward Lucifer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam glancing quickly at Dean, as if asking him what he was waiting for. Castiel would have asked the same question if he could.

Lucifer's eyes glinted in the light of the bonfire, making it seem as if his eyes themselves were on fire. As Castiel neared him, a small, sickening smile spread across his lips.

"Brother," Lucifer said. "We have so much to catch up on."

Castiel stared up at him, trying not to shrink under those burning eyes. Behind his back, he found the end of the rope that would set his hands free if he pulled on it.

Dean still wasn't doing anything. As Meg grabbed Castiel's arm to lead him back into the trees, he glanced back. Dean's face was unreadable. Then realization crashed over Castiel. Dean wasn't going to go through with it.

It was as though he had been kicked in the gut. He froze, unable to breath, as horror threatened to crush him. After all the trust he had put in Dean, he was just going to turn around betray Castiel. He would do nothing while Castiel was probably killed. Castiel had been a fool to trust him in the first place; he was a commoner and a thief. This was doomed from the start.

He wanted to turn around and scream at Dean. He wanted to fall to his knees and make the horrible feeling in his stomach go away. He wanted to hurt Lucifer for causing all of this, make him feel what Castiel was feeling...

The knife. It was still in his pocket. He could feel its heavy weight inches away from his hand, the one still holding the end of the trick knot. If he could just...

He pulled the rope as hard as he could and it immediately fell away. Meg jumped back with a shout of alarm. Lucifer spun around, surprise written across his face, as Castiel swung the switchblade in his hand toward Lucifer’s chest with all his strength.

Faster than Castiel could blink, Lucifer moved aside, sending Castiel stumbling forward. Somewhere behind him, he could hear Dean shouting, "Now, now!"

Lucifer's eyes were blazing, his face twisting into a snarl. "You would dare betray me?" he shouted, as robbers began pouring out from the boulders. "Everyone in your village will die!"

Castiel swung at him again with the knife, but Lucifer was too quick. "This is your fault! This is all your fault!" Castiel heard himself shouting in a voice that didn't sound like his own.

"My fault?" Lucifer demanded. "I was not the one blindly supporting our father and watching this kingdom fall apart! You're fools, all of you! To think that anything good could come out of this!"

Then a scream split the night. Everyone still by the bonfire froze and looked toward it. It came from the east, the direction of the village. There was another scream, and another. The robbers exchanged horrified glances.

A new figure ran out of the trees toward them, this one familiar. Jessica's nightdress looked singed, and blood stained her middle. Her face was streaked with dark ash with rivulets of tears cutting through it.

"Jess!" Sam bellowed, dropping his sword and running toward her.

"Fire!" she shouted, her voice hoarse. She collapsed onto her knees a few steps away from Sam and he rushed to catch her.

"Jess, what happened?"

"Fire...in the village," she croaked. "The king—"

There was uproar from the robbers as they heard her words. Some began running toward the village while Dean bellowed for them to stay. Lucifer turned toward Castiel, fury written across his face.

"What have you done?" he snarled. Castiel couldn't move. He stared in the direction of the village where he could see a faint orange glow through the trees.

"This is my fault," Castiel whispered.

"Yes, it is.”

Seizing the knife from Castiel's outstretched hand, Lucifer stepped forward and thrust it into Castiel's stomach.

For a few frozen heartbeats, Castiel felt nothing. His mouth opened wide and he gaped down at the knife handle protruding from his middle. Then his entire midriff began to throb, dully at first, then more and more painfully. He felt blood begin to trickle from the center of it all...

And it hit him. Fire in his stomach, burning him up from the inside out. All he could do was choke and stumble backwards. His vision tunneled. He couldn't breathe. His back hit the trunk of a tree and he slid to the ground.

Somewhere far away, someone was shouting his name, and then hands were on his shoulders to keep him from falling over forward. Castiel looked up and the shape of Dean's face swam in and out of focus. He was saying something but he was talking too fast and Castiel couldn't keep up with it.

"I'm going to die," Castiel gasped out.

"No, no, no," Dean's voice was saying, sounding very far away. "Stay with me, Cas, we're going to get you through this."

Castiel thought he saw Lucifer melting back into the shadows of the forest. People were shouting far away and he could feel the vibrations of hooves in the ground.

He looked back at Dean, focusing on the green of his eyes. He could hear a familiar voice nearby, but he blocked it out to stare instead at Dean. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

"Dean," he whispered before it was all too much and darkness closed over his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

When he woke up, all he saw was white. _Is this heaven?_ he wondered, but then he blinked and the white turned into the familiar texture of his bedchamber ceiling.

He turned his head to the side, making the sheets he was laying on rustle. Even the slight movement sent a jolt of pain through his middle, making him groan out loud. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, but he recognized that embroidered armchair and that horrible painting of the garden on the wall.

"You're awake," a relieved voice said nearby, and Castiel turned his head to the other side. He blinked when he saw his second-oldest brother slouched in a chair beside his bed.

"Michael," he said, his voice scratchy. Michael appeared as if he hadn't rested in days. There were dark lines underneath his eyes and he hadn't shaved. Castiel had never seen him look so unkempt.

"How do you feel?"

Castiel wasn’t used to receiving this level of concern from any of his brothers, let alone Michael. Uncertain how to react to this, he swallowed the dryness from his throat. "I don't know."

Michael dropped his head. "Castiel, I'm so sorry."

"What for?"

"For all of this. I can't help but feel responsible for what happened. Perhaps if I had paid more attention, you never would have been captured. If I had paid that ransom, Lucifer would never have gotten involved and you wouldn't have been stabbed."

Castiel shook his head. "It's not your fault, Michael."

"Maybe, but I swear I will make that lowlife robber pay for all that he's done."

A jolt went through Castiel's stomach that had nothing to do with the wound there. "Dean?"

"Yes, the Winchester boy." Michael snorted, a look on his face like he smelled something foul. There was the Michael that Castiel recognized. "We caught him when we found you. He didn't even try to run after he stabbed you."

Castiel's heart started to race. "Michael, Dean didn't stab me. Lucifer did."

"Does it matter?" Michael waved his hand. "It's his fault that you were even there, but don't worry. We have him in the dungeon and he'll be burned at the stake tomorrow."

Castiel shot upright, ignoring the pain stabbing through him. "What?" he cried. "No, Michael!"

Michael jumped to his feet in alarmed. "Castiel, lay back down!"

Castiel ignored him. "You can't execute him, Michael! He did nothing wrong."

"Don't be ridiculous! He kidnapped you, stole you from this very bed! He tried to sell you to Lucifer, and he would've too, if it weren't for me!"

"No, Michael, you don't understa—”

"You have to stop exerting yourself, Castiel," Michael said sharply. "Look, you've reopened your stitches!"

Castiel looked down to where blood was seeping through his shirt. Disregarding the throbbing sensation that was getting worse by the second, he reached out to grab Michael's sleeve. "Please, just listen—”

"I'm going to get the physician. Don't move from this spot!" Michael tore away from Castiel's grasp and hurried from the room.

Castiel tried to get up to follow him, to plead with him and make him see sense but he immediately fell back onto his pillows, too dizzy to go on. A few minutes later, Michael reappeared with the physician in tow and Castiel drifted in and out of consciousness as the woman began to stitch his wound back up.

When he awoke again, it was to Anna arranging a bouquet of purple flowers on his bedside table. He watched her for a few moments; her bright red hair reminded him of Charlie and he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her. Anna hadn't realized he was awake and startled when he reached out and touched her sleeve.

"Castiel," she breathed out, a wide smile immediately spreading across her lips. "I'm glad you're awake."

"It's good to see your face again, Anna," he whispered.

"And yours. You've been through a lot, haven't you?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

Anna sat down on the edge of his bed, reminding him irresistibly of when he was ten and she was five and she would sneak into his room at night so he could tell her stories. "You have to tell me all about it. You must have been so frightened! That man, Dean Winchester - was he terrifying? I haven't seen him yet. What was he like? Did he hurt you?"

"No, no." Castiel frowned, shaking his head. "No, he wasn't. He didn't. He - he saved my life."

Anna gave him a strange look. "Are you sure you're feeling alright, Castiel?"

Remembering what Michael said, Castiel tried to sit up, but Anna grabbed his shoulders and forced him back down.

"I have to talk to Michael!" Castiel protested.

"No, you have to rest!" Anna said firmly. "Besides, you know Michael is busy."

"You don't understand, Anna." Castiel looked at her pleadingly. "He's going to execute Dean, but he is not a bad man! Dean is a good man, a very good man."

"Calm down, Castiel!" Anna said, keeping one hand on his shoulder to keep him down. "Do you realize that you're talking about the man that kidnapped you?"

"Please, Anna!" A new thought struck him. "The village. There was a fire. What happened to the village?"

"What village? What fire?" Anna looked bewildered. "Castiel, you're not making sense."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I know. Anna, I know this sounds insane. But you have to take me to Michael."

She chewed her lip. "You can't move, though. The physician said you had to stay in bed for another week—”

"I don’t care what the physician said," Castiel snapped, making Anna flinch. "I'm sorry, but this is important. Please, just take me to Michael."

Anna hesitated for a few moments, looking unsure. Finally, she nodded. "If you start bleeding again, it's your fault."

"Yes, of course," Castiel said in relief. "Now help me get up."

She put her arm underneath his shoulders, helping to push him into a sitting position while he groaned. It hurt far more than he had expected. It even hurt to breathe in this position. He screwed his face up, trying over overcome the pain.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes," Castiel gritted out through his teeth. "Just keep going."

Together they swung his legs off the bed so that they touched the floor. Anna moved to sit on the bed beside him, wrapping his arm over her shoulders. They stood up together and for a second Castiel saw black as pain shot through him.

"I'm alright," he gasped, leaning heavily on Anna. "Where's Michael?"

"In the council room," Anna said. "He's meeting with his advisors."

That was in a completely separate wing of the palace. Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. "Let's go."

It was probably the most painful experience of his life. By the time they got out of his bedroom, he was already covered in sweat and shaking, and as soon as he saw the long hallway extended in front of him he almost collapsed in defeat. But Anna started walking and, putting as much of his weight on her as he thought she could bear, he walked along with her.

He didn't know how long it took them to get to the council room, but it felt like an eternity. Both he and Anna were panting and ready to collapse by the time they reached the door and stumbled inside without knocking.

Michael was surrounded by his four advisors at a large table in the middle of the room, but he stood up as soon as they entered.

"Castiel! What the hell are you doing? Anna, why did you bring him here?"

"I need...to talk to you," Castiel gasped out.

"This is ridiculous. You should be resting! I'll call for a stretcher to bring you back to bed immediately."

"No!" Castiel shouted hoarsely, and Michael stopped in the middle of gesturing to one of the servants that hovered near the door. "No," Castiel said again. "This is too important. You need to hear me out, Michael."

Michael looked at Anna, perplexed. "I would listen to him if I were you," she said. "This seems to be very important to him."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Michael strode forward and put his arm around Castiel's shoulder, helping Anna all but carry him into one of the chairs at the table. Once seated, Castiel nearly collapsed face first onto the table's surface.

"Leave us," Michael told the advisors. "You too, Anna."

"But—”

"Go.”

Castiel could hear her grumbling all the way out the door. He wished she could stay; it might make Michael more willing to listen to him.

"So," Michael said, sitting in the chair beside Castiel's at the table. "What could possibly be so important?"

Castiel straightened up. "Dean Winchester is an innocent man."

Michael huffed out an impatient breath. "Not this again. The man kidnapped you, Castiel, and you expect me to believe that he should live?"

" _Yes!_ " Castiel said emphatically. "What he did was to protect his village! He only kidnapped me because he needed the money—”

"Oh, so it was because of pure greed!"

"No! He needed the money because Lucifer was threatening to take his village, but he offered Dean a deal - five thousand gold coins for the village's safety. So Dean kidnapped me, but you wouldn't give him the money, so—”

"Do you realize how this sounds?" Michael interrupted, laughing. "It's all lies - every last word! I knew you were naïve but I didn't think you would be fooled that easily. The man lied to you and you were fool enough to trust him. A deal with Lucifer? Really? Please, if he was going to lie to you he could have at least used a more original story. I can't believe you fell for that!"

"It's true, I saw all of it myself! Then Lucifer said Dean could give me in exchange for his village's safety and so we made a plan to capture Lucifer ourselves using me as bait—”

"He was obviously just trying to get money from Lucifer, since he couldn't from me!" Michael said loudly.

"You're not listening to me!" Castiel shouted, slamming his palm down on the table with all the strength he could muster. Michael's mouth fell open for a second, and then tightened into a thin line. "Michael, I know how it sounds. I didn't believe him either at first. But Dean proved himself to me. He wasn't doing it to get money from you or anyone, he did it to protect the people and the village that he cared about."

"Noble intentions aside, he broke the law!" Michael said. "And I saw what was happening – Dean Winchester let Lucifer take you, and when I arrived he stabbed you to make it look as if Lucifer had done it. If you had made any plan together, he obviously wasn’t going to go through with it!”

"That's..." Castiel remembered that look on Dean's face as Castiel went toward Lucifer. He hadn't made his move until Castiel had attacked Lucifer himself. Would he have done anything if Castiel hadn't? Was he even planning on saving Castiel? He shook his head quickly. "That's not true. That's only because..." Then he remembered Jessica running toward them in her singed nightgown. "The fire. There was a fire in the village when you came! What happened to them?"

For the first time, Michael looked slightly uncomfortable. "That was an unfortunate accident. One of my men dropped his torch unintentionally and, well, those houses are just built so close together."

Castiel sagged forward. "It burned? The whole village?"

"There was nothing I could have done!" Michael snapped.

"What about the people?" Castiel demanded. "You got them out, didn't you?"

"My priority was finding you! I didn't have time to knock on everyone's doors and wake them up!"

"So you let them all die?" Castiel shouted.

"There were survivors! I don't know, we didn't stay - we had to get you back to the palace because you had been stabbed."

"You chose my life over all of them? How could you do that?"

"They're just commoners, Castiel."

"They're people!" Castiel spat. "You could've saved them! You _should_ have!"

"You should be thanking me - you might have died if we had stayed! Would you like that?"

"I would prefer that to being responsible for all of those deaths," Castiel said. "You're the king, Michael, you're supposed to protect your people. How is this protecting them?"

"But you're my brother," Michael said with a small smile that reminded Castiel unnervingly of Lucifer.

"That didn't seem to matter to you when you refused to pay the ransom Dean offered to you!"

Michael opened his mouth, then closed it again, his face flushing. "Castiel, I—”

"Don't," Castiel growled. "Stop talking, now."

Instead of listening to him, Michael said, “I don’t understand what you’re so worked up about. I was only trying to save you!”

“And that warrants the death of an entire village?”

“It was just some no-name village on the border. There are many more just like it,” Michael said dismissively.

“Border or not, they’re still—” Castiel stopped. Something didn’t make sense. “Wait… how did you know where to find me in the first place?”

"We received a message from a man named Samuel Campbell--"

"Samuel?" Castiel repeated, straightening up quickly. " _He_ told you?"

"Yes. He told us where to go to find you and the man who kidnapped you. It was most likely a trap since we were ambushed on the way to the village, but my men disposed of him and his little band without much trouble."

"Samuel is...dead?" Castiel's mouth felt dry.

"What? You're not going to tell me that he was innocent too, are you?" Michael sniffed.

"No, no…" Castiel murmured. _This is all my fault._

"Castiel.” Michael leaned forward, his voice suddenly gentle. "It's clear that you've been through a lot in the last few days. I understand that you're a little confused. You may have thought that Dean Winchester was on your side, but the truth is that he's not. He's a commoner and a thief. They're all the same, just liars eager to steal from those of us that have more than them."

"You're wrong," Castiel said. "They're not all the same. They're just different from us, but you're too busy looking down on them to see that."

"What are you talking about?"

"How can you expect to rule people when you're looking at them from a distance? You don't see them for who they really are. You think you're better than them, so you can't truly understand or help them. No wonder the kingdom is falling apart - you have no idea how to rule these people that you don't understand."

Michael's face was flushed. "What are you saying, that _you'd_ do a better job at ruling than I?"

"No! But—"

"You're beginning to sound dangerously like Lucifer, you know that? Would you rather run off and join him instead?"

Frustrated, Castiel said, "No, that's not—"

" _I_ am running this kingdom, not you!" Michael’s voice had risen to a shout and his face was red. "It is not your place to tell me how I should do it! You spend a few days in the woods and think you know more about it then me? Do you even know what would happen if I let Dean Winchester live? What kind of example that would set for the rest of the kingdom? Our family would be kidnapped left and right if people thought they could get away with it without being punished! It would be chaos!"

Castiel's mouth hung open. "So you'll kill Dean just to set an example to everyone else? Even though he's innocent?"

Michael stood up abruptly. "I'm done talking, Castiel. This is the end of this conversation. If I hear one more word about Dean Winchester from you, I'll make sure that he’s executed tonight instead."

"Michael—"

"That's enough!" Michael strode toward the door, yanking it open. Anna, who looked like she had had her ear pressed against the door, stumbled backward. "Take him back to his room," Michael told Anna before brushing past her and walking away down the hallway.

Castiel slumped forward, resting his forehead against the cool, polished wood of the table. He closed his eyes tightly against the burn of tears that rose up suddenly.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder as he heard the scrape of a chair that Anna sat down in.

"Did you hear everything?" he whispered.

"Yes," she said, pausing for a few seconds. "Can you...can you tell me what really happened?"

Lifting his head up, Castiel sighed, pulling up the air from deep inside his lungs and letting it go in a slow _whoosh_.

He told her the whole story, from being drugged in his bed to passing out after getting stabbed. He told her of his failed escape attempt and the party at the Roadhouse and overhearing Dean's conversation with Meg. He told her about the plan that they made and Dean's amulet and the bonfire and Lucifer's eyes.

She listened to all of it, only stopped him to ask questions to clarify, and he talked until his throat was dry. When he finally reached the end, she reached out and took his hand that lay resting on the table.

"I don't know what to say," she said quietly.

"I don't either.” Castiel cracked a smile.

"So Dean was doing all of it for his village. Never to hurt you or get money," Anna said.

Castiel looked down at his lap and nodded.

"I can't believe Michael wouldn't listen to you. It's so unfair - he can't execute someone who tried to _save_ you!"

"And I can't save him," Castiel murmured. "After all that he's done for me, there's nothing I can do for him."

"Do you love him?"

Castiel's eyes shot up to meet hers, and she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"I – I—" Castiel stammered. Then he closed his mouth, confused.

"You don't have to know," Anna shrugged. "But either way, you should do something."

"What could I do? What could I possibly do now?"

She shook her head. "I wish I knew."

Castiel exhaled slowly. "So do I."

She said nothing, laying her hand over his on the table, and for a long time he stared out the window trying to push back the burning feeling behind his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

Michael made sure that Castiel was confined to his room for the rest of the day. Anna brought him dinner and news, telling him that Dean's execution was scheduled for noon the next day. The whole royal family was supposed to attend since it was apparently tradition when traitors were executed, but Castiel suspected that Michael was just trying to prove a point.

He wanted to talk to Michael again. He wanted to beg him to see the truth, but he was terrified that Michael would grow angry again and make Dean's execution earlier as he had threatened. There had to be some other way of saving Dean...he just had to figure it out before noon tomorrow. He felt useless lying on his bed, unable to move without hurting himself, unable to think of a way to save the man that he...

He couldn't even bring himself to think it. To admit to himself that what he felt for Dean was anything beyond the repayment of saving his life would be too much, knowing that he might soon lose him forever. Instead, he told himself firmly that he wanted to save Dean because he was a good man. That was easy. That was simple. Nothing messy or too strong, and no complicated emotions that Castiel wasn't ready to deal with yet.

Castiel didn't remember falling asleep but when he woke up the room was dark. His eyes found the clock on the mantle across the room from his bed. It was just past midnight and the castle was quiet. For a few moments he lay still, the feeling of helplessness swirling over him and threatening to seep into his lungs and choke him.

A pair of wooden crutches was leaning against the foot of his bed. He stared at them for a few seconds, wondering who had put them there. Was it Anna? Was she trying to tell him something?

Castiel’s heart began to beat faster as an idea started to form in his mind. It was possibly insane, and would most likely do more harm than good, but why else would Anna have put the crutches there? And would he ever be able to live with himself if he didn’t try to do something?

His eyes landed on something on his bedside table. He reached out and picked up the amulet that Dean had given him, running his thumb over its rough surface. They must have taken it while he was unconscious and only now thought to give it back. The metal was cool now and Castiel let it lie in his palm as he gathered up strength for what he was about to do.

Before he could change his mind, he pulled his blankets off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Moving so quickly made him stop and clutch his middle, gasping, as pain shot through him. It was all he could do not to black out again for a few minutes.

Finally, when he could breathe somewhat normally again, he carefully placed his feet onto the floor and put his weight on them. Slowly, slowly, he moved toward the crutches, fitting them under his armpits. He was beginning to wonder if he was in fact insane, but he started moving toward the door anyway, the amulet gripped in his hand.

When he opened up the door, he was startled to find a group of at least five guards lounging outside his door. They looked as surprised to see him as he was them, but they quickly snapped to attention and looked straight ahead.

Castiel cast about wildly for an excuse. "I'm, uh, going to the kitchen," he said, hoping Michael hadn't given them orders to keep him in his room.

"Sir, one of us can get something for you if you’re hungry," one of the guards said, still looking straight ahead.

"No," Castiel said. "I'll go myself."

"But, sir… You're not supposed to leave your bed."

"I don't care," Castiel snapped. "I won't be kept locked in my own room like an animal in a cage."

"Of course, sir," the guard said immediately. Castiel was pleased to see that he still had some power here.

"Don't tell Michael I've left," he told them before starting on his long trip down the hallway.

He had only been to the dungeons once before, a long time ago, when Anna was very small and she had gone missing from her bedroom. In a panic, Castiel's father had sent everyone looking for her - the servants, the courtiers, Castiel and his brothers. Somehow, Castiel had ended up in the dark, underground staircase that led to the dungeon and ventured on in strange, almost morbid curiosity. All the cells had been filled then, with men and women that looked terrifying with their rough clothes and desperate pleas towards Castiel. Now, he wondered how many of them had actually committed crimes. All of those people were dead now, Castiel guessed, and he wished he had known enough then to try to save them too.

Tonight, though, only one cell was filled. Castiel didn't see Dean until he looked into the shadowy corner where he heard a soft snore. For a moment, he stood catching his breath, watching through the barred window in the cell door as Dean's chest rose and fell evenly, his lips hanging open slightly.

Once his breathing was normal, he turned away from the cell. "Guard!" The dungeon guard appeared from the room he slept in, looking as if he had just woken up. "Unlock this cell for me. I'd like to speak to this prisoner."

The man looked uncertain. "Sir, I was given orders to not let anyone in there."

“I'm the prince and I'm giving you new orders," Castiel said. "Open this door."

Nodding quickly, the guard bent over the lock in the door, searching through his jingling ring of keys until he found the one that fit. Finally, he swung the door open.

Dean was on his feet now having heard the noise from outside. The wariness on his face transformed into relief when he saw Castiel.

"Cas," he breathed. "You're alive. Oh, thank God. They wouldn't tell me anything and I thought..."

Shooting him a warning look, Castiel turned toward the guard. "Thank you. I'll let you know when I'd like to leave."

The guard hesitated again. “Sir, this is a dangerous man—”

“I’m perfectly safe,” Castiel said. “Please leave us.”

The guard nodded warily and closed the door behind Castiel. He heard it lock with a definite clicking sound and the guard's footsteps faded away.

Dean was scanning Castiel closely, his eyes lingering on his crutches and the spot of red that had bled through his white shirt. "Cas, what are you doing out of bed? You’re obviously hurt.”

Castiel waved him off. “I’ll be fine. I had to talk to you.”

“You were stabbed just yesterday!” Dean’s voice sounded almost angry. “You should be resting, not killing yourself to come talk to me!”

“Dean.” Castiel reached out to briefly touch Dean’s forearm. “Stop worrying. I’ll live. I’m here now so we might as well talk anyways. Besides, I brought you this.” He held out the amulet.

“Some good luck charm this is,” Dean sighed, taking it and staring at it for a long moment.

“It seemed to work for me. Perhaps it will for you too.”

Dean looked up at him. His green eyes seemed glow gold in the torchlight from the hallway outside. Quietly, he said, “What did you want to talk about?”

There were so many things that Castiel wanted to say but he didn’t know how to put them into words. Instead, he blurted out the last thing that Dean probably wanted to hear. "You're scheduled to be executed tomorrow at noon."

“Aren’t you just the bearer of good news,” Dean snorted humorlessly. "I know already, they told me. Came in here with a fancy scroll to read off of and everything. Almost made me feel important." He tried for a smile, but it seemed forced.

"I tried to talk to Michael but he wouldn't listen," Castiel said, speaking quickly. "I told him everything that you did. How you saved my life and that you were trying to capture Lucifer, but he told me that you're still a traitor and he couldn't let you live and set a bad example to the rest of the kingdom, which is ridiculous, and I told him—”

"Cas," Dean said, touching his shoulder. "It's fine. You tried, didn't you?"

"But it wasn't enough!" Castiel said frantically. "There has to be some other way to save you! I could talk to his advisors, maybe they'd make him see sense, and then I could—”

Dean was smiling, a small, sad sort of smile. "Cas. It's too late. The decision has been made."

"No! I won't accept it. I'll find a way to save you, Dean, I swear!"

"I've accepted it. I'm going to die. I don't exactly like it but there's nothing either of us can do to stop it now."

"What? No!"

"And maybe I don't deserve to live, anyways," Dean sighed. "I let them all down. The village burned because of me. Lucifer got away, you got hurt… Maybe I don’t deserve to be saved. Maybe this is just what's supposed to happen."

"Don't talk like that," Castiel said forcefully. "Those things weren't your fault. It was Michael, all of it. He's the one that burned the village, that let Lucifer escape, that killed Samuel—”

Dean looked at him sharply. "Samuel is dead?"

Castiel opened his mouth and then quickly closed it again, mentally berating himself. "Yes. He was the one that told Michael where to find us. He tried to ambush him, but Michael killed him and the other Campbells."

Blinking quickly, Dean stepped backward until his back hit the cell wall. He stared at nothing, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Castiel whispered.

"No," Dean murmured, shaking his head. "Don't be. He wasn't family. At least not in the true sense. He didn't earn that. He tried to sell us out to Michael just to get his own stupid revenge."

"Still, if I had just played along and let you do your own plan with Meg and Lucifer, maybe none of this would have happened."

"Don't you dare blame yourself," Dean said, sounding angry now. "If there's anyone at fault here, it's me. You did your best, Cas, more than anyone could have asked of you. I was the one that let you down."

Hesitating for a moment, Castiel looked down at his feet. "I did worry...” he began. “When I was going toward Lucifer and you didn't call to everyone. I thought you had changed your mind. That you were going to let Lucifer take me."

Dean exhaled slowly. "I considered it. I won't deny that it seemed much easier than capturing Lucifer himself and then dealing with Michael, but when it came down to it I couldn't do it."

Castiel looked up. "Why not?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "I couldn't do that to you."

Castiel was silent for a moment as he processed Dean’s words. "I'm sorry it had to turn out this way, Dean.”

"Don't apologize. I want you to know that I don't blame you, okay? After I'm..." He took a deep breath. "After I'm dead, I don't want you to think that any of this was your fault."

"Stop it!" Castiel said angrily. "Don't start saying goodbye now!"

"When would you like me to do it, then?" Dean demanded. "On my way to the gallows? While you watch with your family? Would you prefer that I do it then?"

"No, no!" Castiel exclaimed. "You can't say goodbye, Dean. You can't die! I don't want you to die! I—”

He cut himself off, fearing that he had said too much already and given himself away. But Dean seemed to understand that he couldn’t finish. He nodded, smiling softly.

"Thank you, Cas, for everything. Really, you don't know what it means to me." His hand was on Castiel's shoulder, and he could feel it like a brand against his skin.

"Is this really it, then?" Castiel asked quietly.

"I guess so."

Castiel shook his head. “Maybe if things had been different…”

That small, sad smile was back. "You mean if you weren't a prince and I weren't a commoner?"

Swallowing hard, Castiel nodded.

"Yeah," Dean murmured. "Maybe this would have worked out differently."

"Yes," Castiel breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from Dean's shining eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned forward and captured Dean's lips in his own.

Dean's mouth was softer than Castiel would have thought. It was warm and full and the most wonderful thing that Castiel had ever tasted. In the second that it took for his brain to catch up with his body, he let himself savor that feeling. But once he realized what he was doing he pulled away with a sharp gasp.

He was almost afraid to meet Dean's eyes. Dean seemed as shocked as Castiel was, his mouth hanging open slightly, his eyes wide.

"I-I'm sorry," Castiel whispered, starting to step back, dropping his eyes.

Dean stepped forward then, kissing Castiel hard enough to make him lose his balance. Castiel grabbed onto Dean for support, his crutches clattering to the ground, his fingers twisting into the collar of Dean's shirt. It was as if some invisible wall between them had come crashing down. Now, all that was left was the need to memorize the taste of Dean's mouth, the feeling of his arms holding Castiel up, the shape of his jaw under Castiel's hand. Desperate to know, Castiel pushed back, knocking his teeth clumsily against Dean's. They stopped, just breathing with each other for a few moments.

Castiel's eyes were closed. He could feel Dean's lips barely touching his own, his hot breath against his mouth. Dean's hands gripping his back. The slightly sticky moisture of sweat on Dean's neck. The rough stubble on his jaw beneath Castiel's thumb. The dull throb of pain in his middle that didn't seem so important now. Castiel swallowed down the words he wanted to say, knowing that they would only make this worse.

"It'll be okay," Dean was whispering. "I promise you. It'll be okay."

Castiel wanted to say something in reply, but his throat was too tight to get the words out. Instead, he just nodded. It wouldn't be okay, it never would be. He couldn't bear to tell Dean this.

"I want you to know," Dean said softly, "that I wouldn't take any of it back. Maybe I'm supposed to regret what I did because it's what's taking me to my execution, but if it means I got to meet you, then it was all worth it."

"You can't – I'm not–" Castiel stammered, finally opening his eyes and meeting Dean's. "I'm not worth that."

"You are," Dean said. He kissed Castiel again, slowly, softly, as if he was something precious and fragile. "You are worth everything."

The tightness in Castiel's throat was getting worse, accompanied now by a sharp burning behind his eyes. He didn't want Dean to see him cry, so he stepped back. "I should go."

Dean just nodded, bending down to pick up Castiel's crutches off the ground. Castiel hobbled toward the cell door, banging on it to signal the guard. Then he looked back at Dean.

"Thank you, Dean," he said. "I'm sorry."

Dean said nothing as the guard appeared to open the door. Castiel held Dean's gaze for another second, then finally tore himself away and stepped out of the cell. He didn't look back as the guard locked the door behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel didn't sleep for the rest of the night. When Anna came in carrying a tray of breakfast, he was still sitting upright in bed, staring out the window at the rising sun. He could feel the hour of Dean's execution growing nearer and nearer as if there was a clock within his blood, his bones, ticking down the seconds. He wondered if Dean felt the same.

"You were right," he told Anna. She looked confused for a moment before her face cleared with understanding. Before she could say anything to try to comfort him, Castiel shook his head and looked down at the plate she had brought him, knowing that his appetite was gone.

There was nothing to do but wait. He wanted to pace up and down his room to get rid of the anxiety building up inside him, but that was impossible. His wound had not fared well with the journey down to the dungeon; it hurt him to even shift in his bed.

An hour before noon, Michael came into Castiel's room. Castiel tried to get Michael to meet his eyes, but Michael determinedly looked away. He told Castiel that it was time to get dressed for Dean's execution. A servant hurried over to Castiel's bedside, and before he could say anything, Michael had turned away and disappeared out the door.

The servant dressed Castiel in silence. He wore some of his finest clothes, as if this were some festival or state event they were going to instead of the execution of an innocent man. Castiel felt as if he was in a dreaming state. None of this seemed real. How could it, when it was so catastrophically wrong? His heart wasn’t supposed to ache as if it were too heavy for his chest. He had never felt anything like this, not even after his father disappeared.

When he was finished dressing, the servant helped him get his crutches. Castiel hobbled out the door and once again began the long journey down the hallway. He was lucky that he was on the first floor so that he wouldn't have to deal with staircases again.

The execution was to take place just outside the castle walls, so that the smell wouldn't linger in the castle for days. A ring of guards protected the area, where a few hundred people had gathered around a large pile of wood with a long stake in the center. A makeshift wooden platform raised above the rest held six chairs, one for Castiel and each of his siblings. They were all there already, with Michael in the largest chair.

The servant helped Castiel climb the steps onto the platform, sitting him down in the empty chair beside Anna. She met his eyes with a sympathetic face and placed her hand over his in a gesture of comfort.

It wasn't long before Michael's herald, Naomi, mounted the platform and unrolled a scroll with Michael's seal on it. The crowd immediately fell quiet as she cleared her throat.

"We are here to witness the execution of Dean Winchester," she said in a loud, clear voice that rang out over the silent masses. "He is charged with treason against the king through kidnapping Prince Castiel and conspiring with the traitor Lucifer."

Castiel flinched at hearing his own name.

"Today he will be burned at the stake until dead, the proper punishment for treason. The fire will cleanse the world of his life and purify us of his treachery. This is the order of your king."

It was eerily silent. The only sounds were the wind flapping in the banners held by the guards and someone in the crowd coughing softly. Then as guards parted to make way for Dean, a hushed whisper swept through the crowd.

Castiel felt something inside himself lurch painfully when he saw Dean. He was held by two guards but he kept his head high and led the way to his pyre. He had shaved the stubble on his face and combed his hair; even his clothes were clean and unwrinkled. At least Michael had allowed him that one final dignity. The amulet hung around his neck.

Then Dean's eyes left the pyre and began to scan the area, stopping when they landed on Castiel. The corner of his mouth lifted fractionally in what seemed like a reassuring smile, but it was no comfort to Castiel. He realized that his jaw was clenched so tightly together that it hurt.

_It'll be okay._

Castiel had never felt less okay in his life. How was it that he had known this man for only a few days, but he had been changed so drastically by him? How could Dean come into his life, tear up everything he had known to be true to be replaced by a new understanding of the world, and then leave so soon?

Naomi was speaking again, but Castiel couldn't hear her over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. _It's not fair,_ he thought, watching as Dean climbed the pile of wood and was tied securely to the stake. _It's not fair. It's not fair._ It echoed over and over and in his head, a building mantra that blocked out everything but the sight of Dean's green eyes locked on him.

"Stop!"

The voice rang out, cutting off Naomi's words and making the guard carrying the torch pause in his approach toward the pyre. Heads whipped around toward the sound. Castiel searched the crowd for whoever had spoken only to stop a moment later when a tall man with long brown hair stepped out to stand in front of the pile of wood.

"Sammy, no!" Dean shouted, struggling for the first time against the ropes that held him. Sam's eyes were locked on Michael.

"I won't let you do this," he said in a steady voice. "I offer myself in his place, as a fellow conspirator in his treasonous acts."

"Who are you supposed to be?" Michael snarled.

"Sam Winchester. His brother." Sam's hands were clenched into fists as if to stop them from visibly shaking.

"This is ridiculous," Michael said. "Guards, take him to the dungeon."

"No!" a new voice called before the guards could move. Jessica burst from the crowd to stand at Sam’s side and Castiel felt a wave of relief at seeing her alive after the fire. She was followed by Charlie, Jo, and Garth. Even Bobby appeared, scowling fiercely at Michael. "If you want to kill Dean, you'll have to kill us too," Charlie said. She had tears flowing freely down her face but her voice didn't shake.

"What is going on?" Michael growled, looking at the guards around him. "Well? Tie them up there with him if they're all so eager to die!"

A low murmur broke out in the crowd as the guards moved forward, closing in around the group. Castiel knew exactly what everyone was thinking. Michael was willing to kill five more people just to execute one traitor? The air was taut as the guards began tying Sam and the rest to the pyre, deaf to Dean's angry shouts.

There was a rushing sound in Castiel's ears. Dean dying was unthinkable, but the rest of them as well? How could he sit by and let something like that happen? Why were they so willing to throw their lives away for this? Sam and Dean were family, which meant something to them, but the rest of them weren't. Castiel didn't understand how they could sacrifice themselves for someone like that.

Samuel had been Dean's family and Dean hadn't mourned him. What was it that Dean had said?

_He wasn't family. At least not in the true sense. He didn't earn that._

What had Michael ever done for Castiel? He hadn't paid a single coin to get Castiel back and left him in potential danger instead. He had ignored him and not listened to his pleas to spare Dean. Now he would let so many innocent people die to uphold his false image. Maybe Castiel didn't know much about family, but he knew that this wasn’t it.

Those people were his real family, the ones who stood before him with their hands clasped together as the guard drew closer with the flaming torch. They were the ones who had welcomed him, their captive and a royal, even though it was because of his brother that they were suffering. They had been kind to him when they didn't have to be, when he was anything but kind in return. They had protected him from Lucifer when Michael had failed to. They had earned the status of family where Michael had not.

"Michael, stop," Castiel said, standing up and ignoring the pain that shot through his middle. Once again, everyone froze. Castiel could feel Dean's eyes burning into him, but he stared straight at Michael.

"Castiel," Michael said in a quiet voice. "What are you doing?"

"I won't let you hurt these people."

Michael rose to his feet. "We have talked about this already. It is not your decision. Now sit down before you do something you regret."

Without another word, Castiel walked down the steps of the platform and toward the pyre. The guards didn't stop him as he climbed atop the woodpile so that he stood beside Dean. His heart was pounding so hard that the pain from his wound had faded into background noise.

"If you kill them, you kill me too," he said, his voice steady.

"Cas, no," Dean hissed, his eyes huge. "Don't do this."

Michael's face was twisted in rage. "Don't be foolish! Come back down from there immediately!"

"No," Castiel said. "I'm done with you, Michael. These people have done more for me in the past few days than you have in the whole of my life. You're not my family. You have to earn that."

"I'm not going to burn you," Michael snapped. "You are still a prince."

"Then I renounce my title," Castiel said. "I am nothing to you now."

Michael's hands were clenched into fists at his side. "Why are you doing this, Castiel?"

In answer, Castiel leaned toward Dean and kissed his mouth. He barely heard the exclamations of surprise from the crowd. All he could feel was the warmth of Dean's lips, his smoothly shaven cheek and his soft exhale against his mouth after Castiel pulled away.

"You didn't have to do that," Dean murmured as his lips quirked into a tiny smile.

"Yes I did," Castiel said with a soft smile.

Michael was staring at them, his jaw slack, when Castiel turned to look at him again. He felt a bit of smug satisfaction at the dumbfounded look on Michael's face.

"I will accept whatever fate you choose to deal us," Castiel said, cutting through the silence that had fallen.

"Michael!" Anna exclaimed, jumping to her feet before Michael could say a word. "You cannot kill him. No matter what he says, he is still your brother."

Michael turned toward her, his face thunderous. "What do you suggest I do, then?"

"Let them go. They can walk away and never bother you again."

"But – but – I can't just—”

"You can!" Anna urged him. "The kingdom will look at you as a good and merciful ruler to spare your brother. You know that this is your only option, Michael. You cannot kill Castiel."

Michael stared at Castiel for a long time and Castiel stared back, hardly daring to breathe. Finally Michael looked down.

"I regret that it has come to this," he said barely loud enough for Castiel to hear. "I wish I could have been a better brother to you, Castiel."

 _He's going to kill us,_ Castiel realized.

Michael looked up again. "Go. Now, before I change my mind." He slumped back into his chair, looking as if he held a heavier weight than he had ever before.

Hardly believing what he had heard, Castiel turned to face Dean, whose lips were spreading into a wide smile. A guard stepped forward to untie the ropes binding Dean and as soon as he was free he threw his arms around Castiel, kissing his face all over. "You did it! You did it!" Dean was saying in between kisses. Castiel was too shocked to do anything, let alone speak.  Dean grabbed Castiel's hand and pulled him off from the pyre. Sam and the others were being untied as well and Dean immediately drew Sam into a hug, followed by Jessica, Charlie, and the rest of them.

Sam met Castiel's eyes over Dean's shoulder. "Thank you," he mouthed. Castiel nodded.

The group started making their way through the shocked crowd toward freedom, but Castiel lingered. Michael was still sitting slumped on his throne, not watching any of it. Anna sat in her chair, looking like she was holding back tears. She offered Castiel a shaky smile.

"Michael?" Castiel said, taking an uncertain step toward the platform. Michael did nothing to acknowledge him. "Michael, I'm sorry that this had to happen."

Michael didn't move, but Castiel thought he saw a single tear slip down his cheek, before Dean was grabbing his hand and dragging him along after them.

The group broke free of the crowd and began the walk down the long road toward the distant forest. Dean was almost giddy with joy, chattering on about the party they were going to have in whatever was left of the Roadhouse, how they would find some way to get food and bandages for whoever had been hurt in the fire, that everything would be better now. Castiel knew that things wouldn't all be better since everything was different now and nothing was ever easy. But he was with Dean and his new family, the family that he had chosen.

Castiel walked down the road toward his new life, surrounded by the people he loved, and not once did he look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you to everyone who stuck through to the end! I hope you liked reading it as much as I liked writing it :)
> 
> Thanks again to my wonderful beta and my insanely talented artist!
> 
> [art masterpost]


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